


All I've ever had are love songs

by icarusinflight



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Homophobia, M/M, Matchmaker Harry Styles, Radio Host Nick Grimshaw, University Student Louis, and reference to off-screen homophobia, but like his local uni station okay, one comment on screen which could be interpreted as homophobia (and is by the characters)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 07:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16342202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: Things are finally coming together for Nick.Nick is the DJ of his uni's radio stations, and he passively aggressively dedicates a song to Louis.





	All I've ever had are love songs

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _I dare you_ by The xx. 
> 
> Thank you to Writcraft for running, and being incredibly patient with me.
> 
> Special thanks to [Silvererglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvered_glass/pseuds/silvered_glass) who helped me plan this and encouraged me when I was like... I might have an idea...
> 
> Super special thank you to [Shiftylinguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini) who completed a monster beta at the 11th hour and managed to sort out my incorrect name spellings (@ me you know what you did)
> 
> This was written for the prompt: Nick is the DJ of his uni's radio station. Every day, he passively aggressively dedicates a song to Louis.  
> Worth a mention - in this fic Nick's two years older, in his third year, while the rest of the _lads_ are in their first year. I do what I want.
> 
> This fic includes some themes and instances of homophobia. Most of it is based of experiences I had during school, or that my friends experienced. I just wanted to say that, as cliche as it sounds, it _does_ get better. If you're going through it now you will make it to the other side.
> 
> Please note: This takes place in a universe where they supply tea bags and instant coffee in university dorms. Is that such an impossible thing to dream of?

 

**_dirty dishes on the brain_ **

First days are important, first days are when it all comes together. First days are even more important when this is the first step on _‘Grimmy’s big plan to become a BBC radio presenter’._

He tries not to think about how his _big plan_ is the only plan he has. Or what he will do if this plan falls through. It’s not usually hard to distract him from that line of thought, not when it’s something he doesn’t want to think of, and he’s always been good at finding distraction.

Today the thoughts are easily replaced with frustration, because some tosser’s gone through all the kitchenette’s in the dorm and stolen the tea bags.

 _“Fucking freshers_ ,” he mumbles, frustration running hot under his skin, and he rubs his free hand against his temple feeling the tell-tale pressure there, and willing it not to develop into a headache.

He shoves aside memories of his own fresher year, and particularly the first few weeks, easier considering the blur in which they passed, days that merged into parties and flowed together until he’d had to get his act together for his classes. _It’s not the same_ he tells himself, and it isn’t, really.   He never would have messed with the fucking tea. There’d been no time to stop on the way in after he’d finally found out what the problem was at the dorms, and he’s left gulping down cheap coffee from the station foyer, grimacing as it burns his tongue, and sticks, hot and heavy in his throat.

“Grimmy!” Ainslie greets him, far too cheery for someone who Nick knows has been in since 6am. Nick’s not on till 11, and it was still a battle to be in by 9am. Which probably has more to do with the party in the dorm that went on until the early hours of the morning. _Fucking freshers_.

“Morning,” he greets, trying to be nice, forcing a smile when all he really wants to do is curl up into a ball and sleep. He was never as bad as this years’ freshers (except that he was, he definitely was). “How was the morning show?”

“Chris smashed it,” Ainslie says with a grin, and Nick’s not surprised, he’s worked with Chris before, and he might act like a mess, but he’s not fooling anyone, he’s completely professional when it comes to the station. “You ready for your debut?”

“Born ready babe,” Nick says, voice filled with a confidence he knows he doesn’t feel, and ignoring the churning in his stomach. He’s prepared. He was in last week for planning, has his run sheet ready. It may only be one hour long segment, but it’s a step in the direction of well, everything he wants. For his career at least, he tries not to think about other things he wants that seems even harder to come by than a chance as a Radio host. That way lies only madness.

Instead he reminds himself that he’s got this, is _actually ready._ He’s gone over the schedule, he’s gone over times, he’s left time for the news updates, given himself worst case scenarios and best case scenarios, knows when he can cut a song if he needs more time, or where he can add a song if it comes to it. It’s not his first time on the radio – far from it – but it’s his first time with his _own_ segment. There’s a lot riding on it.

“Knock ’em out,” she says, with a wink, before leaning forward to brush her lips against his cheek.

_~-~_

He eases into the show, and the pleasant buzz that comes with doing well at something overtakes the headache, his frustration, and any lingering fear he has that this might be the wrong move.

He’s feeling invigorated by it, tapping out the pattern of the song plays. He has one song left. He had a song planned, but when he gets the idea he decides to just roll with it, it’ll be fun, and if he needs to make up the time later he will, he’ll play a promo, or whatever it needs.

“This is my last song, next up will be Maree to see you through to lunch. I want to give a shout out to the tosser who threw out all the tea bags in my dorm last night. Cheers mate, you’re a tosser. This is an oldie but a goodie, Some might say by Oasis, hopefully tomorrow will be brighter.”

He keeps it together only until the song plays, flicking the mic switch harder than he needs with a dramatic motion of his hands. Before he lets out the bark of laughter he’s been holding in. It feels good to let it all out.

There’s a flash on the computer, grabbing his attention and he swivels to look. There’s a listener text, his first for the day and he feels a flush of happiness. He opens the text on the screen.

_‘didn’t steal em mate, I threw them all out cause they were shite. Probably needed the coffee anyway. Could do with more, sounds like !_

“Tosser,” Nick, says, though it’s more amused than anything, and he closes the message with a shake of his head. It’s probably just a prank text anyway.

_~-~_

The tea bags still haven’t been replaced in the morning, when he shuffles into the kitchen area. Nick tries to remind himself that everyone’s suffering from the lack of tea bags, but it’s hard not to take it as a personal attack from the universe at large.

He might get a little dramatic when he’s tea deprived in the morning.

It calls for drastic measures, meaning Nick slipping on his orange hoodie, a pair of large sunglasses, and making his way to the nearest cafe. He hasn’t even showered, and his hair is flat as fuck, and judging by the sympathetic look the girl behind the counter gives him then he looks a proper mess. He just needs his coffee and he can get back to his dorm before any of his friends catch sight of him and make fun of him.

He places his order and moves away from the counter, one step closer to getting back to his bed uninterrupted.

“Hi,” a cheery voice interrupts his thoughts, and Nick hopes it’s just his coffee being ready, but the dream is dashed when they continue with, “Are you Nick? From the radio?”

Nick bites down on the groan.

“That’s me,” he says, with more enthusiasm than he feels, turning to look to the person who’s caught him out in his moment of desperation and weakness.

“Your show was great,” the boy says with a grin, and Nick feels his cheeks run hot, and he cracks a smile without thinking to do so. He hooks his fingers into his bracelet, shuffling the beads beneath them as he takes in the boy in front of him. He reminds Nick of a puppy really, all curls and smiling up at Nick like he’s someone worth smiling at. It’s nice really, and Nick stands a little straighter, cracking out his back as he meets his eyes.

“I’m Harry,” the boy says when he moves over to stand beside Nick, almost skipping as he does so. It’s too early, and Nick hasn’t even drunk his coffee, but there’s something about Harry that’s just a little infectious, his enthusiasm bleeding over to Nick, and he can’t bring himself to do anything but grin back, even if he knows it’s nowhere near as stunning as the dimpled smile almost splitting open Harry’s face.

“Yeah,” Nick says, “Though Grimmy’s fine. Did you listen to the show then?” he asks, only realising afterwards that he must have done.

Harry gives an enthusiastic nod,  his curls bouncing as he does. “Yeah, it was great,” he says again, “That shout out was brilliant, too. Funny as.”

Nick has to think for a moment, his brain just a little too slow for the moment, until it clicks into place. “Oh, about the tea bags?”

“Yeah.” Harry pulls a face, only for a moment before his smile is back in its place. “I thought that was pretty funny, you know. You’re nice to listen to. Nice voice.”

“Well you must have paid attention. No one’s recognised my voice before.”

Harry shrugs, but his grin grows even wider, something Nick wouldn’t have thought possible. His dimples are _ridiculous._ Nick wants to poke a finger in them. “I listen to the radio a lot. And I’ve got a good ear for that sort of thing. I’m in a band.”

“Oh, I see how it is now,” Nick says, teasing lightly. “You’re just trying to cosy up to the local DJ to get your new single played on the radio.”

“Might work better if we had a single to play,” Harry says with a lopsided grin. “Or even a name.”

“Investing in the future, then?” Nick shoots back. They finally call Nick’s name, and he retrieves his coffee, taking a sip and burning his mouth just a little; Nick’s never been good at waiting. “Well Harry, it was nice meeting a fan. I’ll see you ‘round campus.”

“See you!” Harry says giving an enthusiastic wave.

_~-~_

Nick’s three sheets to the wind when he hears a too loud shout of, “Grimmy!” close to his ear. He feels an arm thrown around his shoulders.

It takes Nick a moment; he’s a little impaired, and the voice and the person belonging to the voice aren’t immediately familiar to him. He casts his eyes over the person, taking in the curly hair that rings familiar in a way, but it’s not until the face starts to fall, smile slipping away that it comes back to him.

“Harold!” he says, his voice too loud even to his own ears. He frowns at his own words, sure there’s something not quite right there, and it takes him a moment to realise what’s off. “Harry!”

Harry’s grin is almost blinding, and there’s no way he could forget that smile. Nick can’t help but return the smile, knows he’s showing his gums in a way that normally makes him feel self-conscious but he can’t quite bring himself to care about at this moment in time. He wraps his free arm around Harry, and his beer sloshes, some of the precious liquid splashing free of his glass. He’s not letting that go to waste, even if it is only the cheap stuff; he can’t afford to be wasting beer. He licks the outside of his glass, running his tongue along his finger to capture the nearly lost liquid.

“This,” Harry yells, just on the side of too loud and even closer this time, directly into Nick’s ear, “is my friend Louis!”

Nick tips forward a little, leaning into Harry as he looks around him to the boy standing beside Harry. Nick almost spills his beer again as he looks, although he tells himself that’s just because of the precarious way he’s leaning.

Louis is fit. There’s probably no one who would disagree with that, and Harry and Louis make quite the pair. Louis is shorter than Nick, shorter than Harry too, hair pulled tight across his eyes in a side swept fringe, which probably took almost as long as Nick took to do his own. Louis’ wearing a loose tee, collar bones sticking out and _Jesus_ Nick doesn’t think he’s ever found collarbones attractive before but there’s a first for everything. His light blue jeans are tight as fuck, Nick doesn’t know how he slipped into them really, wonders if he had to shimmy into them. _Wonder if he needs a hand getting out of_ them, Nick thinks, barely biting back the laughter that threatens to bubble out. He really shouldn’t be thinking about dressing or undressing someone he’s just met.

He probably shouldn’t be wondering if the jeans look as good from the back as they do from the front.

Louis’s eyes widen a little, and Nick realises he’s been caught out having a look. He feels his face flush, and he thinks he should probably say something, but then Louis gives him a quick up and down of his own, and Nick sees his jaw twitch. Louis looks distinctly unimpressed, pursing his lips almost lazily, before turning his attention away from Nick.

He’s never felt so judged by a simple look.

He shouldn’t find that so hot.

“Do you need a drink?” Harry asks, all smiles, and Nick drags his attention from Louis back to the person who _actually looks happy to see him._ Nick’s drink is still half full, but he’s never says no to the offer of a drink, and that’s not going to start now. He steps in beside Harry at the bar, placing a hand on it, the surface sticky beneath his fingers. Louis steps in too, even though there’s not a lot of space at the bar, but Louis makes room, fitting himself along Harry. Louis’ arm snakes around him, fingers coming to rest on his hip.

Harry relaxes into the touch, like he’s done it a thousand times before — which, he might have for all Nick knows. He feels a hot flush of jealousy shoot straight to his gut, and he turns away from them, looking towards the bar. He can still see the way Louis’ chin tucks into Harry’s chin, reflected in the glass behind the bar.

He just wishes he could have that.

Fuck, he’s getting jealous over people in a bar. Maybe he should cut himself off if he’s already getting sad about the non-existence of his love life.

“Grimmy?” Harry’s words drag him from his thoughts, bringing his attention to the bar.

“Just a pint thanks,” he says to the man behind the bar

The bartender arrives with three glasses. Nick finishes his own off, leaving the glass on the sticky surface and gratefully accepting his new drink. He takes a sip of it before turning to Harry and Louis.

“You here with friends?” he asks as they move away from the service area, his voice almost a yell to be heard over the music.

“It’s just us tonight,” Harry says, and Louis only takes a drink from his beer.

“Well then,” he says, running his hand through his hair, realising too late when his hand tugs at the hairs that i he got them messy on the bar. “Would you like to join the radio party?”

_~-~_

Eventually they stumble out of the pub, after the last drinks bell has rung and all the lights are turned on. Somehow Louis’ ended up with a bottle of something, which he takes a swig of before passing round, first to Harry, who’s barely standing, arm wrapped around Louis and head on his shoulder, before Harry passes it on too.

It turns out they’re all headed to the same dorms, and by the time they get there the bottle is starting to dwindle.

“Need a smoke,” Louis says, when they get to the door.

Harry shoots him a lopsided smile, then turns his head to Louis ear. “Cigarettes will _kill youuuuu,_ ” he sings, before dissolving into giggles, folding over in half as he leans into Louis.

“Me too,” Nick says, pulling up short.

“Be good Lou,” Harry says, giving him a messy kiss on one cheek, then the other, leaving a wet mess Nick can see. It’s unequivocally disgusting, even if Nick has been both the giver and receiver of such a kiss many times before. It’s made worse by the dopey grin on Louis’ face, and Nick feels a deep sense of jealousy for the two of them.

It’s not their fault he can’t seem to find that. But he’s not a saint and he’s allowed to begrudge them a little if he wants. Nick’s own relationships seem to fizzle out as fast as they start, burning bright but ending with a ‘maybe we were better as friends’ or ‘this isn’t what I’m really looking for right now’ and after a first year’s worth of that he decided that maybe relationships aren’t for him.

Twenty years of age may be a little young to be getting this cynical over relationships, but so sue him. Vodka always makes him a little melancholy.

A distraction is what’s needed, and he takes one in the form of sitting down beside Louis, pulling out his pack of cigarettes.

Louis passes over the lighter without saying a word ― a lighter which looks suspiciously like Nick’s own, down to the half removed _bic_ sticker, and when he opens his pack it’s unsurprisingly missing.  

Nick squints at him.

“Light fingered, are we?” Nick asks, sliding a cigarette between his lips and bringing the lighter up. The familiar click of the lighter cools his nerves. It’s cool out, already getting chilly even if it’s only just gone Autumn. Nick wraps his spare arm around himself, and thinks fondly of his wool jumper, folded up back in his room. There’s a price he pays for fashion (and he pays it willingly).

If Nick’s cold, Louis must be freezing, dressed in a pulled-out tee and short jeans. _Jesus_ Nick thinks when he realises, _he’s not even wearing socks._

“Cold?”

“Nah,” Louis says, just to be contrary, and Nick’s starting to think this might be a thing with him. “Always loved a midnight smoke, me.”

Nick wants to snark back, wants to shove Louis straight into the garden. More than that he wants to cuddle for warmth. Annie would let him do it.

“Was just going to ask if you wanted a hug, for warmth.”

“Alright then,” Louis says with a smirk, like he’s doing Nick a favour, which he kind of is, sort of anyway. But Nick’s offering his warmth back so there’s no need for Louis to be quite such a prick about it.

He’s got priorities, though. First being smoking his cigarette, and second being getting some damn warmth while he does it. Even if Louis is an annoying twat, he’s a _warm_ annoying twat, and Nick’s huddled up with people for worse reasons.

Nick shifts closer on the step, until they’re next to each other, Louis’ hot side tight against his. It does help, just a bit. Nick wants to wrap his arm around him, would do it if this were Annie or Pixie, but this isn’t. This is Louis, who Nick just met and he’s not sure Louis even likes him let alone wants to cuddle him, so he refrains, taking another deep pull of smoke, cursing himself for the habit that makes his mum give him _that look_ (not really though, he wishes he hated it sometimes, but he really doesn’t).

Beside him Louis blows out his own puff of smoke.

“What are you studying, then?” Nick asks, when the silence becomes too much to bear. Nick’s never liked a silence, his mum always said he couldn’t hold his tongue to save his life, and he thinks maybe she might be right.

“Teaching.”

“Are you enjoying it?” Nick tries again.

“One week in, aren’t I?” Louis says with a small shrug Nick feels against his shoulder. “Can hardly tell.”

Jesus. Nick wants to fold himself over and slam his head against the concrete.

“Liking Uni, then?”

Louis hums noncommittally.

When Nick opens his mouth to try again Louis cuts him off with a, “Do you always talk this much?”

“Are you always this much of a prick?” Nick shoots back without thinking.

Louis barks a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, before taking another draw on his cigarette. “I really am.”

“I do,” Nick says, and when Louis shoots him a look of confusion, he elaborates. “I do usually talk this much. Got the mouth and face for radio.” He gives a quirk of his mouth.

Louis huffs a laugh. He pulls away from Nick to stand, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground, before grinding it out with his shoe.

Nick hopes that means he’ll come back, but he walks to the stairs, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder as he goes. It's almost friendly is the thing, like Nick could almost be _one of the lads_ but it sends a hot flush running through him that tells Nick that's not what _he_ wants it to be at least.

“Dunno about the face for it,” he says and Nick doesn’t miss the grin on Louis’ face, but the words are just about the nicest thing Louis’ said all night, and Nick feels a bit of a flush at them — and jesus how starved is he for a compliment that those words are enough to get him going? He almost misses Louis’ next words. “Got the hair for it, though."

It takes Nick more than a moment to process the words, and by the time he works them out and stands up turning after Louis, he’s already at the doors.

“Oi!” he calls out. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Louis just flips him off as the dorm doors close behind him.

“Cheeky,” Nick mumbles as he grinds out his cigarette.

_~-~_

**_I'm-ma let you have your say_ **

**_But I ain't let you have your way_ **

He had fun with the dedication, so Nick decides to do it again, searching his memories of the week for something to inspire him. The tea bags are back at least, so that’s out. He ends up thinking of Louis, his smart mouth. He’s pretty sure Louis took his lighter too, after it all. Nick certainly didn’t wake up with it, and he’s not usually forgetful, not with his lighter anyway.

“I’ll be off after this one, leaving you in the tiny yet competent hands of Maree. So for my last song, this one goes out to the boys with smart mouths and light fingers.”

Ainslie appears by the window as the chords start, shooting him two thumbs up through the glass which he returns with a grin of his own.

He’s already packing up when the computer flashes an alert. He’d like to say he’s just really dedicated but the truth is, when you only get one texter, it’s easy to remember their number. And it’s his mate the tea snob, this time texting in with _‘sounds like someone made it count’_ the message says, even as the words play into his headphones.  

“Wanker,” he mumbles, but he’s smiling as he dismisses the message with a click of the mouse.

_~-~_

“Grimmy!”

Harry shoots him a wave from a couple of spaces behind him in the line. If it were Pixie, or Aimee, he knows they'd jump the queue, giving him a hug and never leaving, before ordering in a rush trying to avoid being the one to pay for the coffee.

Nick’s starting to think Harry might be following him, although if he is he's doing a horrible job, and Nick doesn't actually mind the nice, if somewhat energetic youngster.

 _Only two years younger_ , he reminds himself, but in university years that feels like a lot, when Harry's in his first year and Nick's in his third.

He places his order, and waits in the pickup area as Harry makes his way through the queue. It's busier this week, and Nick puts that down to first week laziness. Not that he can judge, he avoided his classes as much as he could — or maybe even too much — in his first and second years. But third year means he's really got to buckle down. It's all part of the great Grimmy plan, and he's more dedicated than ever this year to stick to it.

“Got classes?”

“Not till this afternoon.” Harry leans and over and his eyes are wide and his grin is tight and Nick gets the distinct feeling Harry's planning something and suddenly Nick's not sure he wants to know. “I'm hoping to drag Louis out of bed to go watch the football club trials.”

“Like football then?”

“Couldn't care less.” There's that grin again, and Nick feels like he's missing something big. “But Louis does.”

None of this makes sense and it's like Harry's speaking in riddles. _How is a raven like a writing desk?_ And Nick's never been good at riddles and he doesn't even know the answer to that and he doesn't even like footie and he has no idea what's happening.

And he doesn't know whether it's _HarryandLouis_ or _Harry and Louis._

He feels out of his depth.

His name gets called and he tries to use the break to find anything that makes sense with this whole exchange.

He fails.

“So you're bribing him with coffee?”

“Hot chocolate,” Harry says, with a grin. “Louis hates coffee. He only drinks tea and hot chocolate.”

“Right then,” Nick says, as if any of what’s just been said makes sense. Harry is a whirlwind and Nick just kind of hopes he doesn’t get dragged into any of it. “Well. Enjoy your coffee and the footie.”

“I will! I'll say hi to Louis for you!”

_~-~_

Nick’s already well on the way to drunk when Harry slings one of his octopus arms across his shoulder, yelling a “Grimmy!” far too loudly into his ear.

His drink sloshes precariously, and Nick moves it away from him quickly, lamenting at the beer lost. He’s starting to think Harry is a bit of a hazard.

Like clockwork, Louis appears to Harry’s right, and Harry slings his arm around Louis too, pulling him into his side. It traps Nick’s hand between the two of them, and Nick can feel the outline of ribs against his fingers. He gives an experimental wiggle of his fingertips, and feels the way Louis flinches, before leaning around Harry to glare.

Harry’s either oblivious to it, or doesn’t care, and he pulls them in tighter, locking the two of them against his body as he bounces on his toes.

“Fancy seeing you here, Grim!”

“I’d almost think you were following me.” Nick says the words playfully, but he doesn’t miss the way Harry’s face flushes redder.

“Just saw your hair from a mile away,” Louis says with a smirk.

“Rather that than being too short for anyone to see.”

“Just saw a friend and wanted to say hi,” Harry interrupts, the smile on his face slipping just a little, and Nick feels happy at the thought of now being called _friend_. Unfortunately the look on his face, and Nick thinks maybe he shouldn’t be trying to piss off his new friend’s friends.

Even if Louis started it.

“You having a nice night then?” he asks

“Yeah it’s been brill,” Harry says, his grin back in place like it never left. “Just hanging with some mates, if you wanna join.”

“Sounds fun.”

Harry leads him to a space tucked into the corner, where two boys are spread out against the lounges.

“I literally had to apologise for being too enthusiastic about Harry Potter.” Nick overhears from the darker haired boy when they approach.

“No way!” the blonde says, and Nick recognises the Irish accent, and he thinks of Annie — even if their accents sound entirely different. “Bet there’re plenty of gals who love Harry Potter.”

Harry introduces Nick to them as they do a game of musical chairs — the Irish guy turns out to be Niall, and the Harry Potter fan’s name is Liam, and they end up sharing a lounge chair, tucked in tight with each other.

Louis drops down to the couch and Harry tucks into his side with a practised ease, that Nick still can’t tell is _just friends_ or something more.

It leaves Nick sitting on the arm of the chair, and feeling just a little but like a third — or fifth — wheel.

They’re all fit as fuck too, which doesn’t help. Nick was an ugly duckling, he's well aware of the fact, took him time to grow into his looks, and he's still not sure he can really say that he has, but he tries not to think about that, especially not while facing down four hot freshers. If one is chance, two is a coincidence, and three is a pattern he doesn’t know what it means to be surrounded by four fit freshers.

Even if he might think one is a bit more fit than the rest.

“Grimmy here’s on the radio,” Harry says, tapping his hand on Nick’s knee. Nick feels himself preen a little at the words, pushing out his chest even if _one hour session a week_ is hardly enough to be known for it. “He’s going to be a famous Radio person one day.”

“Are you?” Liam’s eyes widen a little, “That’s wicked.”

“Future Breakfast Presenter right in front of you,” Nick says with a grin.

“Cocky." Louis' isn't wrong, but it's a bit rich coming from him. Besides —

“I deserve to be,” he shoots back without any hesitation.

“Maybe you’ll play us when you’re famous,” Harry says.

“I might,” Nick says, “Keep buying the drinks Haz, and I’m sure I can make it happen.”

_~-~_

Harry and Louis’ friends are easy to talk to, even if they do make Nick feel a little old (it’s only two years really). There’s a practiced ease they have around each other, and it does make Nick feel a little like an outsider, even with Harry working to include him in the conversations that flow. There’s a history there that he’s not familiar with, but Nick holds his own.

When the lights flicker on to mark closing time, Nick’s surprised the time passed so quickly.

“I’ve gotta head to the Gents,” Niall says.

“Meet you outside,” Louis says, standing up, and forcing Harry to stand with him. “Going for a smoke.”

“I’ll join.” Nick offers, moving to stand, Louis already moving towards the exit.

Louis’ quick, dodging between people still snogging on the dance floor, and stepping around people with a graceful ease that Nick envies, just a little bit. He’s fast footed, and Nick falls behind partially because he’s slower, and partially because Nick can’t fit through the people gaps that Louis can, instead having to take the time to go around, or excuse his way through. He wouldn’t put it past Louis to do it on purpose either, and the smirk he’s met with when he finally makes his way out through the doors is enough to make Nick think he might be right.

“Spry one, aren’t you?”

“Spry,” Louis says, with a roll of his eyes and a scrunch of his nose. “How old’re you? Who says spry anymore, Nicholas.”

The sound of his name probably shouldn’t send a flush to his stomach, but he can’t remember the last time someone called him by his full name (unless he’s gone and pissed them off, but then he has other things to be concerned about).

“Oi.” He bumps his shoulder against Louis’. “Not too old thanks, just because some of us have finished growing.”

That earns him another roll of his eyes, and a shove of the shoulder, and _Christ_ he is short though, small enough to tuck under Nick’s shoulder if he wanted to.

Lack of height has never really been a turn on for him before.

“Got a light?” Louis asks, cigarette already between his fingers.

Nick narrows his eyes at him. He’s got a lighter, a blue disposable he’d had to buy last week after his one went missing last weekend, and Nick doesn’t know how, but he’s fairly sure that had something to do with Louis.

Even if he does remember putting the lighter back in his jacket pocket.

“Lost yours?”

“Easy to lose,” Louis says with a shrug, but Nick can see the way he’s biting his cheek, and he knows, he fucking _knows_ Louis took his.

He doesn’t break eye contact with Louis as he pulls his pack out (and that’s getting light, he’s going to need a new pack tomorrow, most likely). Taking the cigarette out, he puts it between his lips.

Nick flicks the wheel, motion familiar to his hands, and brings the flame to the cigarette, inhaling deeply as the flame catches. He closes his eyes on the inhale, bringing the familiar smoke deep into his lungs. It cools his veins in the same way it always does, soothing an itch he was barely aware of until it’s gone.

Louis’ hand closes around his wrist, and Nick’s eyes fly open. He watches as Louis leans forward, fingers holding Nick’s hand tight in place — not that he’d dream of pulling away — and he leans in. He’s close enough that Nick can see the flecks of grey in his eyes, close enough that he thinks he can see a line around his eyes, contacts maybe, and when Louis inhales he doesn’t shut his eyes, instead keeping eye contact with Nick as he cheeks hollow, sucking in the smoke as the end flares bright red.

Then he blows the smoke out into Nick’s eyes.

“Scamp!” Nick drops the flame, yanking his hand away, and closing his eyes to the smoke, blinking them as his eyes sting.  Louis' laughter fills the night, and Nick should feel offended (that’s laughter at his expense, thanks), but he can’t help but watch Louis and feel the grin on his own face as Louis leans against the wall, propping himself up as he holds his side. He tries to ignore the way his chest is heaving, and the pounding he can feel in his veins where Louis’ fingers had held him just a moment before.

_~-~_

**_you've got control of everyone's eyes including mine_ **

**_fancy you with a passion_ **

It’s not a _thing_. It’s just that when Nick tries to think of a song, it’s Louis that comes to his mind, Louis’ body hot beside him, Louis’ laughter. So for the second week in a row he dedicates a song to Louis.

Not that he says that on air, he’s not that much of an idiot. Even if he’s sure Louis’ isn’t listening, if his derision of Nick is anything to go by.

“Alrighty folks, I hope you’re all having a lovely Monday morning, this song is _Still Take You Home_ by _Arctic Monkeys_. What a tune, remember to keep it safe out there loves. Maree will see you soon.”

 _‘Fancy yourself a top-shop princess or a rockstar eh ?’_ the message reads when it comes through, and Nick had been expecting it, looking forward to it even, but that message cuts a little close, all things considered.

He doesn’t close the message out until after the song finishes, not until Maree’s finished her links, and her first song is playing.

_~-~_

“Footie again, Harold?” Nick asks when Harry collects the two cups.

“Yes, no, well, kind of.”

Nick holds back from trying to ask what that would even mean, and takes a drink from his coffee — too hot again. “We didn’t end up going last week. But.” Harry bumps his shoulder into the door, letting out a little _oof_ as he connects with it, and Nick leans over him to push it open, earning him a dimpled smile from Harry. “They’re holding trials for university teams today and Louis’ going.”

Harry stops suddenly, turning to look at Nick so fast he sees the liquid splash out of his cups, but Harry ignores it, grinning at Nick in a way that puts those dimples on display.

“You should come with!” Harry says suddenly. “Come and watch and cheer him on! It’ll be fun.”

“What?” Keeping up with Harry physically is hard enough, but trying to keep up with the twists and turns of his brain is even harder. “Why would I do that? I’m not sure Louis even likes me, Harry.” Harry opens his mouth, but Nick doesn’t let him interrupt, instead continuing with, “and I certainly have no interest in watching football. If my dad — to his eternal disappointment — couldn’t get me to watch a game I don’t know why you think I would want to watch it now?”

Harry grins in the way that spells trouble.

“But you wouldn’t mind watching a bunch of fit lads run around right, Grimmy?” And well, Nick can’t argue there. “Besides. This is kind of a big deal. Louis hasn’t played since he quit in school. All the lads will be there.”

“I’m still not sure he’d want me there.”

“Of course he would!” Harry says, with an optimism that Nick definitely doesn’t feel. “C’mon Grimmy, you don’t have anything better to do, right?”

Nick thinks he should be offended by that. He _does_ have better things he could be doing. He could be back in his room, in his bed, he could be organising next week's mix, he could be doing his readings— he pulls a face. Maybe not that one.

But the memory of Louis’ hand wrapped around his wrist comes to his mind, and well, Nick doesn’t want to do his readings, and he does like the lads.

“Fine,” he says, “but only for the fit lads. Do you think Louis will even want a hot drink if he’s doing trials?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Harry’s face drops a little, before perking up. “Well, Liam will probably drink it then.” He shoves Nick with his shoulder. “You think Louis’ fit,” he sing-songs.

“Ugh.” He shoves at Harry’s shoulder, watching as the drinks slosh and spill again. Harry takes a drink from first one cup, then the other, shooting him a grin.

Harry has hot chocolate on his nose. This is the friend Nick has made — well, the friend that grew on him really, like a fungus. A good fungus, like a mushroom.

Maybe one day Nick should examine how he always chooses friends who take a certain delight in making fun of him. Although he’s not sure he can be too judgy on that front; his own sense of humour has been developed with a healthy sense of self-deprecation and if people are laughing _with him_ then they’re not laughing _at him,_ right?

He’s saved from having to actually consider that by arriving at the field, Harry shoving a cup in his hand, and pointing him in the direction of Liam and Niall, before running off awkwardly towards the players.

Niall takes the offered drink, and they watch as Harry runs over, yelling as he does so. He almost runs into two people on the way, and ends up half falling into the fence, but Louis is there in no time, running up for a hug, before ruffling Harry’s hair and running back.

Harry wisely walks back to them, and only almost trips once.

They watch as everyone warms up, running laps, kicking their legs up and stretching, and Nick doesn’t take his eyes off Louis the whole time. He definitely doesn't check out Louis’ arse either, or maybe he does, but not as much as he could.

Every time Louis approaches the boys cheer him, and Nick finds himself cheering along with them. When they start running drills, Niall serves as their own commentator, explaining what they’re doing and commenting on everyone who goes. Nick thinks Niall knows enough to be involved and he asks as much.

“Nah, I’ve got other things on,” he says with a somewhat conspiratorial grin. “Footie’s always been more Louis’ thing.”

Louis does well, according to Niall, and Nick can’t help but agree. When they move onto games is when he really starts to shine, though. Louis’ on the smaller side for the team — though not the smallest — but he’s quick. He can move the ball fast and himself faster, dodging people with fancy footwork that reminds Nick of Louis in the club.

He looks so happy, too, when he makes a good pass, or when he makes a throw. Even the time he almost scores a goal, Niall making a deep groan when it goes to the keeper.

“He’s good at that,” Nick remarks.

“He is.” Harry’s grin is so large it’s almost glowing, and he puffs out his chest — almost like a proud parent. “He really loves football.”

“I’m so glad to see him back on the field,’ Niall adds. “After last year I wasn’t sure he would again.”

“What happened last year?”

There’s a moment, a shared look between the three boys, and Nick knows he’s missing something, feels more out of place in that moment than he has all day as the boys seem to talk between themselves, without saying a word.

“He left the team,” Harry says. It’s uncharacteristic of Harry. His stories are never short, always full of rambling and seemingly unrelated facts. He’s not meeting Nick’s eyes, instead looking out at Louis on the field in a way which could be natural but the way his face is closed off like Nick’s never seen before. He’s gripping his left wrist, just below the watch he always wears.

“Why—”

“Tommo’s got the ball,” Niall interrupts, before yelling, “Oi Oi, Louis!”

It’s an obvious diversion, but Nick lets it go. It’s not his place, he’s not even sure Louis would consider him a friend.

When they’re done, Louis sprints towards them, barely slowing down to leap over the fence. He charges the boys, leaping at Liam, who catches him with ease.

The boys all jump in, and Louis is sweaty and gross and Nick's _glad_ he's not a part of that, thank you very much. He saw the way Louis’ shirt was sticking to his chest when he was running towards them, and his curls are sticking to his forehead — and his neck _Jesus._ The last thing Nick wants is an armful of sweaty Louis, definitely not.

When they do finally pull apart, Louis takes one look at him and Nick can practically see when the thought occurs to him.

“Grimshaw,” Louis says, eyes sizing him up and a grin that the Cheshire cat would be jealous of. “You came to watch me play.”

Nick does take a step back, at the look on his face, because he thinks he knows where this will lead and he's almost certain he doesn't want it (he shoves down the little voice that tries to say he does, what does his brain really know?). “Might have decided to come down and watch some fit boys run around short shorts,” he hesitates, as if thinking. “And watch you play football of course.”

“How generous,” Louis says, slow blinking. “A real Samaritan. However can I thank you?”

“There’s no need—” is as far as he gets, because Louis runs at him, and there’s a precious few moments when Nick thinks he might be able to get away, long legs are faster than short ones right? But Louis is _quick_ , and Nick just spent hours watching footie trials he should know that but it still takes him surprise, just like Louis when he captures him, half tackling him, wrapping his arms around Nick, and maybe Nick doesn’t hate it quite as much as he thinks he should.

_~-~_

Nick gets a message from Harry Friday afternoon.

_Lou made the team!!_

Then before he even gets a chance to reply

_celebration drinks at SU?_

They’d traded numbers after the trials, since then Harry has sent through three puns, one picture of Niall pointing at a duck, and a video of Louis and Niall playing kick about with what looked to be actual rubbish. He doesn’t regret it in the least.

When he turns up, the boys are already well on the way to drunk, leaning on each other in the way Nick is starting to associate with these four. Nick grabs his own pint before moving over to say his greetings, slipping in between Louis and Liam and saying a general hello.

“Hiya love,” he directs at Louis, “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Louis’ already got a healthy flush to his cheeks, but Nick thinks his cheeks flush darker. He’s definitely not imagining the broad smile, and the way his eyes crinkle with it.

“It's only a uni team. Not like I'm playing for Liverpool any time soon,” Louis says, taking a drink from his own beer. “Still. I guess playing footie’s a bit better than playing music.”

Nick laughs despite himself. “Cheeky.”

The night is fun, pleasant and warm, and full of beers. They take turns going to the bar, and Nick starts to lose track of the drinks, between the beers, and Louis’ flask — some sort of Whiskey, and it’s only because Nick isn’t expecting it that he coughs and splutters, but Louis laughs, eyes crinkling again and it’s almost worth it.

Louis stays close beside him, even when they move from the bar to a sofa. It has to be deliberate, Nick thinks, the way Louis is leaning into Nick’s side. His fingers linger keep touching too, tapping at his leg after a point made, or falling around his shoulders. His foot keeps bumping into Nick’s, occasionally seeming to wrap around his, before kicking out a moment later, sometimes coming back to Nick’s with a little too much force, making him wince. Nick can’t quite bring himself to move his foot when the next moment Louis’ foot is wrapping around his ankle again.

It’s almost _cuddly_ , Nick thinks, the way Louis leans into him. He’s seen Louis like this with the rest of the lads though. Louis’ _tactile_ is the thing, and Nick is too, with his friends. It’s just that Louis’ never been like this with _him._

It’s all a bit much. He tries to enjoy it and not think about it too much.

Which of course means it’s all he can think about.

“Nicholas,” Louis says, and the way he’s looking at him makes Nick suspect it’s not the first time he’s said his name. “I’m going out for a smoke, you coming?”

“Yes,” Nick says, without even considering not agreeing. He’s well overdue for one, and he can’t imagine losing Louis’ warmth.

Nick’s learnt from last time, grabbing hold of Louis arm, his hand easily wrapping around Louis’ wrist. Louis feels so _small_ underneath his touch, and Nick pushes down the thought that he could easily hold both of Louis’ wrists in one of his hands. He holds tight just because he can, feeling the bones and muscles beneath his fingers.

Louis still moves quickly, and Nick takes long strides to keep up with him. He bumps a few people on the way through, mumbling his apologies as they go.

The air is like a splash of cold water to the face when Louis pulls him through the door. It sobers him a little, chasing away the fuzz and the warmth the alcohol had brought with him.

Louis pulls out his cigarette, and has it lit, and his lighter squirrelled away before Nick even has time to see it, leaving Nick to watch as he blows out the smoke in a forceful exhale. Louis’ hypnotic, and Nick can’t look away from the cigarette between his lips, or the hands, finally still now that they’re holding the smoke.

“Need a light?” Louis asks, and that’s what pulls Nick from his mind, startling him into action as he pulls his own pack from his pocket. His fingers hesitate on his lighter, tucked tight into the pack, but he closes the lid on it, placing the smoke between his lips and looking to Louis expectantly.

He’s half expecting Louis to lean in with his own lit smoke, but he pulls a lighter out, leaning into Nick and bringing his hand up to protect the flame as he flicks it on. Nick leans in, but his eyes are on Louis, and only Louis, barely registering the flame in front of him and it’s only instinct which has him drawing in a breath.

Louis’ own cigarette flares, drawing his attention to where it’s sitting in Louis mouth, between Louis’ lips, red and plump and so kissable, that Nick almost chokes on the smoke.

He manages to recover, blowing the smoke out of his nostrils — and away from Louis, he’s not a heathen like some people — but the quirk of Louis’ lips seems to suggest he’s been caught out.

“Having a nice night then?” Nick asks, because he’s staring and he knows he’s staring and he’s definitely making this _weird_ and it’s almost like that’s one of Nick’s super powers, really. He should join the avengers, maybe he can outweird all the villains.

Louis laughs, throwing his head back. It shows off the line of his neck and Nick’s transfixed, tracing the line with his eyes, as he imagines doing so with his tongue.

“‘s been good,” Louis says, his voice still filled with laughter. “Hoping it’ll get better.”

And that — that feels like a line. Nick’s usually good at this, the flirting. Although that’s not strictly true. He’s good at being flirty and fun, his signature move is being _over-the-top_ . He likes to think of it as casting his net wide, and sometimes he might catch a fit mer-man, and sometimes he just ends up giggling with Pix well into the morning. But _actually flirting_ is a little harder for him, probably because he gets a bit dumb when a fit lad looks at him, all brain functions evacuating the premises, but _Jesus_ he doesn’t think he’s usually this bad. But Louis' eyes feel they pin Nick and he feels transfixed under his gaze, feels like Louis can see straight through into his soul and he’s being ridiculous, he knows he is, but he feels like that’s only fair given the situation.

Louis eyes are still on him, cigarette between his lips, and his hands are playing with his shirt, twisting the hem between his fingers, showing off a flash of skin at his hip and Nick wants to touch it, wants to _taste it_ and it’s that which finally spurs him into action.

The cigarette falls from his own lips, forgotten, and he crowds into Louis, pushing him against the wall with a thud, breathing out a gasp that drops his own smoke.

Which is exactly what Nick wanted really.

Louis looks up at him, and _Christ_ he’s so short really, shorter than any boyfriend Nick’s had before, but it’s enthralling the way he looks up at him. He’s never seen Louis this still before, he’s usually always in action, always fidgeting or moving, but Louis is just standing there, looking up at Nick. There’s a lazy smile on Louis’ face, and Nick wants to wipe it off, wants to kiss it from his face.

So he does.

It’s easy to drop his lips down to cover Louis' with his own. Nick might initiate the kiss, but Louis doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, leaving no doubt in Nick’s mind that he wants it. Louis kisses like he’s all in, and Nick thinks he should have been expecting that. Should have known that Louis, for all he’s compact is hiding a drive inside him that comes out. He’d seen it on the field, he saw it in the way he danced and Nick wants, more than anything, to see more of it. It takes his breath away. Nick licks into Louis’ mouth with the same determination he’s receiving from Louis. He tastes like cheap beer and smoke, and Nick shouldn’t find that as appealing as he does but he can’t get enough of it. He pulls away to tug at Louis’ bottom lip with his teeth, before sucking it into his mouth, tasting salt there too.

It’s delicious.

His head is spinning when he finally breaks from Louis’s lips, and he feels breathless. He wonders if he needs his puffer. It’s been a while since he last used it, and it’s been relegated to the bottom of his bag — something he hadn’t even thought to bring today but now he’s wondering if that was a mistake, if this is how it all ends because he could have never anticipated needing it because of this.

 _RIP Grimmy,_ the headstone will read, _he died doing what he loved._

The sharp pinch of teeth at his neck drags him from his thoughts. He might have guessed Louis was a biter, sharp smile and sharper teeth. Teeth that are still nibbling at his neck in a way that Nick thinks — and maybe even hopes — will leave a mark. His left hand is still on Louis’ hip, and Nick can feel the sharp jut of a hip bone there, he’s not giving that up easily, but his right hand shoots up to Louis’ head, fingers lacing through hair softly and then not so softly, tugging the hair harshly even as he holds Louis’ face to his neck.

Louis doesn’t seem to mind, if the humming vibration against his neck is anything to go by and _Jesus_ that goes straight to his cock.

Louis' hips buck forward, pressing hard against where Nick’s well on his way to hard in his trousers. Nick wants more, he wants more so damn much, and he’s pushing into Louis, grinding into him in a way he’s sure leaves no confusion about his desires.

Louis gasps, breaking away from his neck, taking in deep breathes, and Nick can understand that, can feel his own breath racing, but he feels a little smug that he’s leaving Louis breathless too. Louis nips at his jaw, then his bottom lip, before kissing it better, and _oh yes._ Nick moves his hand down, running over Louis’ neck to his lower back, pulling Louis in tighter as he grinds in. This is stupid, foolish, and it makes Nick feel like he’s back in school, skipping PE to have a fag and a snog behind the bike sheds.

He wants though, is the thing. He wants it so damn much, he’s only been kissing Louis for minutes but it’s all he wants to do. His free hand skirts Louis’ shirt, before pushing underneath it to find smooth warm skin. Louis flinches a little, which, fair, Nick thinks his fingers are probably chilled from the cold, but he doesn’t let that stop him, skirting the fingers up, pushing Louis’ shirt up too, baring his skin to the air. His fingers skirt across ribs and Louis twitches at the touch, and _oh_ Nick catalogues that for the future — he’s hoping there will be a time for them to use it.

Nick’s hand continues up, touch no longer teasing but firm, one hand holding Louis still while his other continues its journey. He flicks his thumb out, searching for a nipple and finding it. Louis breaks away to groan and Nick’s echoes it.

“Should we—”

His words are cut off by the sound of the door opening, and there’s a moment where Nick is watching Louis so close that he sees everything, sees the widening of his eyes, the smile fall from his face, and sees something that Nick thinks can only be _panic_ before suddenly Louis is knocking his arm away, and stepping sideways out of Nick’s hold. Nick’s left facing the wall, all off balance from Louis — both mentally and physically — from everything that's transpired.

Behind him he hears laughter and words, probably just a few people making their way home after a few, but Louis doesn’t look away, eyes locked past Nick until the sounds reside.

“Should probably get back inside,” Louis says, fiddling with something between his fingers. “Bit nippy, eh?”

“Alright then.” Nick’s still panting a little, and he might be breathless but he thinks he needs a smoke more than anything, his own lost as a casualty in love and war. “I’ll meet you back in there.

Louis simply nods, leaving him with his hands tucked into his jean pockets, and shoulders turned up.

When Nick comes back inside Louis is sitting on Harry, leaving Nick to sit on the sofa on his own, ignoring the way his chest pings and how the sofa feels too large now, too much space when before it had felt perfect and cosy.

Louis barely even looks at him, nursing a fresh drink in his hand, which he drinks in large gulps.

The side where Louis had once rested against him feels cold without Louis now, and it stays that way for the rest of the night.

_~-~_

**_Am I too close for comfort?_ **

By Monday, Nick’s still not feeling any better about it.

He feels a little rubbish about it, a little disappointed, and yes he may have got off to Louis more than once since Friday, but he’s still feeling the sting of rejection.

The amount of time he’s starting to allocate to Louis Tomlinson should possibly be starting to concern him. They’re not dating, possibly not even friends, and Nick has had plenty a cheeky snog at the pub, but Louis seems to be sticking in his thoughts for a reason he can’t quite comprehend.

Then again it’s not exactly surprising behaviour. Nick’s all in once he’s in, it’s just that he hadn’t really thought he was all in on Louis yet.

It’s not exactly a pleasant thought.

He thinks maybe he should make a conscious effort not to dedicate the song to Louis, all things considered. Not that they’re dedicated to him. Maybe _inspired by_ is a better way of putting it.

Except it really is all that he can think of, the thoughts running round his head and this is how Nick has been dealing with the confusing thoughts Louis is bringing out in him.

“Righto I’m off, be nice to Maree when she’s in for me. This song is Siberian Nights by The Kills. Nights are getting colder out there, stay warm in whatever way you can.”

It cuts deeper than he means, the lyrics _am I too close for comfort_ ringing out, but the next lyrics cut him a little deeper. _For the blue eyed boys, I got a love._

_Fuck._

_~-~_

Nick’s confused when he wakes up, unsure of why he’s woken up when there isn’t a sound of his alarm going off. It’s only a moment before he finds out, a pounding on his door and a voice he recognises audible through the — admittedly very thin — walls.

“Wake up Nick,” Harry sing-songs, and Nick buries his head and groans into his pillow.

“Let me innnnn,” he calls out, voice loud and annoying and Nick makes a promise to hurt him when he next sees him. Which, if he can help it, certainly won’t be now.

“Let me in, Grim, people are staring at me.” Harry punctuates his words with more knocking, short and sharp and _way too many_ and Nick _hates_ him.

Except that he doesn’t.

When he does finally open the door, Harry is standing there, trademark grin on his face, and Nick still hates him more than a little bit but he doesn’t punch him or slam the door in his face. It’s also helped by the fact he’s holding two disposable cups in a tray.

“One of those better be for me,” he grumbles, rubbing at his eyes and then pushing his fingers through his hair, grimacing when they get stuck and tug on knots.

“Of course,” Harry grins, taking a cup and handing it over.

It’s Nick’s order of course, even though he’s never told Harry what it is. He’s never told Harry his dorm number either, but he’s not really that surprised to see Harry here. Harry seems determined, and apart from the fact he woke Nick up on one of the only mornings he’s allowed a lie in, he’s not _unhappy_ to see him here.

His brain is still a little fuzzy though, and he takes advantage of distraction of coffee, taking his time drinking it as Harry goes ahead making himself acting as though he’s been here many times before. He throws the tray in his bin, half makes the bed with a lazy throw of the duvet, and sits down on the bed while Nick takes a seat at the desk.

“So Haz, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Heard you were wanting someone to kiss.”

And sure, that’s what Harry would take away from that. It might be true, but he wasn’t exactly trying to broadcast it as _‘hi my name is Grimmy and I’m desperate’_. Even if he might be a little. But lately he’s only really been thinking about one set of lips and—

That way lies madness.

“I certainly do not, Harold,” Nick says, shoving the thought down, and taking another sip of his coffee. “And even if I did, I fail to see how that would be a concern for _you.”_

“And I think I have the perfect person,” Harry continues on as if Nick hadn’t said a word. He stops, grinning like a kid who’s found the perfect present, and Nick’s never felt so simultaneously worried and fond.

“Louis!”

He should have been taking a drink of his coffee, he could have spat all over Harry, and then that would have shown him. He would have deserved it too for charging into Nick’s room, even if he did bring gifts of coffee.

“Louis?” he asks, trying to school his features so as not to show the shock, but just curiousness.

“Yes!”

“Is he even gay?” Nick asks, carefully.

“Honestly, Grim,” Harry rolls his eyes and scoffs. “No. But he does like guys.” Harry adds with a waggle of his eyebrows which is probably meant to say _something_ but really just makes him look ridiculous.

Nick probably finds it more endearing than he should.

“I saw you Saturday,” Harry says, and Nick's heart stops. “You were _looking at him Grimmy._ And you guys were all touchy.”

“So? Louis is touchy with everyone.”

Harry chews his lip a little, turning the coffee cup in his hand, as he looks down at it, before looking back to Nick and fixing him with those deep green eyes that he’s sure girls get lost in every day. “Nah. With the lads, sure. But he's not really outside of that. He used to be a bit. But I haven't really seen him like he was with you for a while.”

“It’s nice,” Harry adds, “seeing him like this with someone again. Louis’s a bit of a serial monogamist, but he’s been single for a while.”

Nick’s not sure what that means, and has even less of an idea what that means in relation to Louis snogging him. Louis has been single for a while — Nick has too. Serial monogamist though — Nick’s relationships always seem to sizzle out before they can really be called _relationships._ He wants though is the thing. It’s not for lack of trying on his behalf but there always seems to be something that gets in the way. But he thinks he might want that. With Louis.

His chest swells a little at the thought.

“I just want my friends to be happy,” Harry says, dragging Nick from his thoughts. “It would be wicked, though. We could all go out on a date.”

That tears Nick from his thoughts.

“You want to come on a date, Haz? A double date?”

“Just the three of us.”

“You want to third wheel?”

“I wouldn’t be a third wheel with you two,” Harry says with a grin. He’s serious. Harry actually wants to go on a date.

“Alright then.” He doesn’t know what to say to that. He has no idea.

“I’ve got to go,” Harry says standing up, fiddling a little with the lid on his cup. “Just like, think about it. Louis’ great.”

He dumps the coffee cup in the bin before moving to the door.

“But like if you do, Grim, take care of him, okay?”

Harry’s out the door before Nick can respond, not that he’s sure what he’d say. _Of course,_ comes to mind and, _if he’ll let me._

But what about me?

_~-~_

Nick gets asked to do a DJ set at the SU. He’s not the main DJ, but it’s still a good gig, worth the experience and hopefully it’ll get his name out there as a DJ. He’s excited for it.

Harry texts with a _lou has practice but we’ll be there!!_ which Nick can only assume is about the gig. He never told Harry about it, but at this stage he’s stopped asking questions about Harry knowing things.

Worst case scenario, he’s the nicest stalker Nick’s ever had.

Nick wears a zebra onesie to match the night's theme of _onesie in the jungle_ and he thinks he pulls it off quite well, thank you very much. It’s a little too short in the ankles, because apparently zebra are only meant for short people but he’s not letting that deter him. Anyway his ankles look fine and they’re on display for the world to see except when he’s behind the decks on the stage but he can live with that.

Nick’s about halfway through when he sees a pair of knobbly wrists and hands flapping across in front of him and he’s not entirely sure how Harry can make even waving look awkward (at least he thinks that’s what he’s meant to be doing, with Harry he’s not quite sure) but he’s delighted to see him anyway. He looks ridiculous, in what Nick thinks is some sort of bird costume, unbuttoned half the way down his chest and Nick can literally see people on the dancefloor stutter their movements as they catch sight of his chest.

They’re ridiculous. Harry’s ridiculous and he’s probably going to break half the dancefloor’s heart by the end of the night.

Harry points towards the back of the room and when Nick follows his direction he thinks he can make out the rest of the lads. He gives Harry an appreciative thumbs up.

He doesn’t watch them exactly after that, it’s just that Nick tends to know where they are for the rest of his set.

When the set's finished, at least he knows where to find them, and he puts on the playlist he’d arranged for the interval, grabs himself a beer and heads over.

It’s hot now, and Nick is feeling sweaty under his own onesie. He’s regretting the choice to not wear a shirt underneath, had thought that would only make him hotter to have extra layers. But now he’s watching other people on the dance floor stripping half out of their own costumes and down to tanks with more than a little jealousy. He could always strip down like Harry’s done, but he doesn’t need to compete with Harry for the ‘who wore it better’. His ego can’t take that hit.

Instead he delights in the cold of his drink, cheap plastic glass because uni students can’t be trusted but he knew that already and the su’s policy of plastic only has certainly saved him from disaster enough times.

Harry pulls him in for a hug when he joins the group, all flailing arms and threatening Nick’s drink but Nick’s expecting it this time, and he manages to only lose a little bit in the attack that is Harry’s greeting.

It’s too loud for more than a, “Having fun, lads?” and a round of nods. Harry yells something which could be _sounded good, Grim_ even though he definitely can’t be sure _._ He can’t be certain but he’ll take the compliment anyway. He knows he smashed it up there.

This close up Nick can tell that Harry is a bird. Niall is a giraffe, which he could tell even from the stage, but Liam he’s not so sure about. Something brown, but he’s already stripped off half the costume, so Nick can’t tell.

Louis’ just wearing a hat.

It’s a stupid hat, as well. And not just because it covers up Louis’ hair and Nick would quite like to run his hands through that, thank you very much. He has a plan tonight, and it definitely involves getting his hands on Louis again. On his hair, his mouth, the soft line of his stomach — and Nick really needs to stop that line of thought because his costumes won’t hide what thoughts of Louis do to him in the least.

Louis is wearing a stupid hat, a vest and shorts and he should look ridiculous but Nick can barely take his eyes off him.

He feels too hot all over, watching as Liam and Louis dance around each other. It’s not even good dancing, mostly hopping around and wiggling their asses like the idiots they are but Nick’s feeling that rush that comes with nailing a particularly good set. He wants to dance it off really, but he can’t seem to do anything but watch and get hotter underneath his far too hot onesie.

A break will do him good.

“Just heading outside for a cig,” he yells to be heard over the music. The music that’s still his playlist actually, and it’s doing quite fabulous if he can say so himself — and he does, because he might have enough issues and insecurities to flood the Thames but he’s quite confident in his DJ abilities, thanks.

The night air is as refreshing as his smoke. He lets it cool him, breathing in deeply even when he’s not taking a drag. He’s building this up in his head more than it is, all they’ve done is share a kiss, and Nick could walk back inside and find half a dozen people who’d go that far with him but he doesn’t want that, wants to go back inside and find Louis and ask him if he wants a kiss and a shag and maybe a _let me make you breakfast in the morning_ except he’s probably got cereal in his cupboards if he’s lucky.

He always falls hard is the problem, can trace the stages of his descent, and maybe Harry’s got his hopes up and that’s not helping either.

The knowledge that he’s setting himself up for failure doesn’t help anything.

He’s just going to get another drink, have a dance when he gets inside. Let Louis make the move. If he doesn’t Nick will take the hint.

His course of action decided, he stubs out the rest of his smoke and turns to head back inside.

He’s barely inside the door when he almost bumps into someone. Somehow, in his complicated failure of an attempt to sidestep — legs too long and slow to respond after a few drinks — he ends up with a hand on his arm where his sleeves are pushed up, and he’s not sure what it is exactly that tips him off but he realises it’s _Louis_ in front of him a second before he actually lifts his eyes to see those familiar blues.

Louis doesn’t look as surprised to see him as Nick feels, staring Nick down and holding him in place, eyes looking up at him from under that ridiculous hat. Nick wonders if Louis would punch him if he knocked it off. He wonders if it would be worth it.

He’s embarrassingly into Louis is the thing. And he doesn’t even know if Louis likes him back. Well there was the kissing, that might mean something, but there was also the running away and refusing to touch Nick afterwards and maybe Louis views kissing like a handshake or a ‘how are you mate?’. Except that’s ridiculous and even Nick can admit that but he can’t stop his thoughts from racing and Louis is just _staring up at him._

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Nick echoes. “Going outside?”

“Yeah. Heading out for a smoke.”

“Really?” Louis hand is still on Nick's arm, his thumb tracing a circle against the skin. “I've just been out there mate, wouldn't recommend it.”

“Oh really?” Louis sounds amused, and Nick fights to contain his smile.

“Yeah. Everybody cool is in here.” Nick wants to reach out and touch. He wants to grab Louis' hand, or place his fingers on those lips, slide his hand to grip Louis' neck and pull him into a kiss. His hand moves almost without permission and he diverts, instead knocking on the strange hat. “What’s this, then? Forget your costume and steal some poor sod’s hat?”

“Just because I didn’t dress up as a ridiculous animal.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Not everyone wants to be a Zebra, mate.” He flicks at Nick’s chest, hard, and Nick flinches away, bringing his hand up to guard his chest from further attacks.

“Zebra’s are cool mate. What even are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Louis grins wide, showing off his teeth and there’s something that makes a flush run through his body. Louis leans up, placing his other hand on Nick’s hip and leaning his weight into him, and Nick feels the hot rush of air against his ear when Louis whispers, “I’m a safari hunter.”

Louis laughs into his ear, too loud and it should be obnoxious — is kind of obnoxious but that’s just Louis, and apparently that’s something Nick likes now, when a boy laughs at him, and he can’t help but laugh along with him. Louis is still laughing as he pulls away, mouth wide and eyes crinkling at the edges, and then suddenly his lips are on Nick’s.

It’s sloppy, and it barely works. They’re both still laughing and the stupid hat is in the way, bumping against Nick’s forehead annoyingly. Their mouths and lips crash together and Nick feels the jolt of teeth against teeth which should be warning enough to pull back, try again, but the alcohol he’s drunk is enough to dull the edge of pain, until Nick places his hand on Louis’ lower back, pulls him in tighter as Louis tips his head up to accommodate the angle, and everything slips into place.

It feels electric, their bodies pressing tight together and Nick just wants to touch, one hand resting on Louis’ hip and the other on his back. Louis’ is still holding his arm, almost bruise tight, and his other hand is on his chest, thumb stroking in broad swipes. It’s like Louis can’t stop moving even now, and Nick is hyper aware of every stroke and move of Louis’ hands on him, of his hips against him, and his mouth beneath Nick’s, and when his lips slip open Nick doesn’t hesitate to lick into Nick’s mouth. Louis bites his tongue — just sharp enough for a hint of pain before he opens his mouth further in an invitation that Nick definitely takes. He can taste the beer, the distinctive taste of bargain pints, and the distinctive taste of cigarettes. There’s something else too, a taste that’s just _Louis_ and Nick loves it, wants to go on tasting it forever, and he makes his goal to do just that, at least until Louis pulls back.

He groans his displeasure as Louis breaks the kiss, but doesn’t move to release his hold on Louis.

Louis huffs a laugh, warm and wet against Nick’s mouth. He’s so close it would only take the smallest of movements to drop his head to place another kiss against Louis’ lips. It’s all Louis, Louis’ blue eyes, Louis’ lips, Louis’ hands on him and Louis’ body pressed tight against him and Nick _wants so much._ He almost does close the distance again, and the only thing that stops him is the memory of the last time they did this.

Louis’ still moving, hands tracing slow patterns where they rest on Nick’s arm and chest, and hips slowly thrusting against him, too soft to really do anything for his cock but enough to build the fire in his veins, enough to be a hint of something more and certainly enough to let him know that Louis is feeling it just as much as he is.

“Do you wanna—?” Louis chokes off with a groan when their cocks bump together.

“Yes.” He doesn’t know what Louis is asking but it’s a yes regardless, and he nods too for good measure, knocking his head into Louis' hat. It really needs to go, it’s hideous and annoying and it’s covering up Louis' hair and it’s stopping him from threading his fingers through it too. It’s just completely in the way. It needs to go.

Louis presses into him, and it takes Nick a moment to realises that is a hint to _move_ and then Louis is pushing him backwards, through a door. It turns out to be the bathrooms, which are thankfully empty at this time of night. It’s not his first choice, but Nick can deal with that. It's definitely not the first time the toilets have been used for this, not even the first time Nick's done this in a loo. But not these loos, and that feels important now.

He's thinking about differences in toilet cubicles while Louis is dropping to his knees and it's all too ridiculous.

The laughter bubbles out against his permission, falling from his lips in a cough.

Louis shoots him a look, scathing and, and Nick grins back at him, earning himself an eye roll in response.

Louis needs to lighten up, sex is _fun_ , and Nick resolves to teach him that next time — and fuck, he hopes there is a next time — but then Louis’ fingers find Nick's cock, pressing tight against through his clothes and pants and all thoughts except _yes_ and _please_ and _please don't stop_ escape his mind.

Nick doesn’t even realise he’s said the words until Louise hisses, “Stay quiet,” with a sharp squeeze on Nick's cock, and that certainly gets his attention. His voice is still a little rough, hoarse from the cigarettes. Louis looks so delectable, and when he drops to his knees Nick’s head spins with desire. Louis’ hands drift to his hips, before tracing upwards, skirting over his nipples and coming to play with the buttons which hold the costume closed.

When Louis finally starts opening the buttons, Nick groans, loud in the room, and Louis slaps at his chest, just hard enough to leave his skin stinging. He doesn’t regret skipping a t-shirt or vest now, not when Louis unbuttons his costume, his hands trace down, fingers feeling like fire against him, and Nick wants so much that he has to bite down on his lip to smother the groan when he finally unbuttons him down to his pants.

Louis smirks, up at him, breathing hot and heavy against Nick’s cock and he wants so much, can’t look away. Not when Louis nuzzles gently at his cloth covered cock. It feels like an age — though it’s probably not, when Louis finally pushes his pants down, cock almost jumping to attention.

He’s so hard, so turned on, just from a few kisses and a pretty boy on his knees in front of him. He’s so _easy_ for Louis, on his knees in front of Nick, with his hand — so much smaller than Nick’s — wrapped around Nick’s cock. Louis flicks out his tongue to lick at head of Nick’s cock.

Nick groans, dropping his head back against the cubicle wall.

“Quiet,” Louis reminds him, and Nick opens his mouth, ready to tell Louis _he knows,_ but Louis is opening his lips and taking Nick into his mouth.

Louis mouth is wet and warm and Louis presses his tongue in against Nick’s cock and his knees go weak. He’s thankful for the wall at his back, for the hands that Louis brings up to hold his hips tight, holding him still even when he wants to do nothing more than thrust into Louis’ mouth.

Nick bites down on his lip to stop the moan from falling from his lips. He wants to touch, wants to run his hands through Louis' hair, so he knocks the stupid hat off, ignoring the sound it makes. Louis scowls up at him, and Nick smothers another laugh at the sight of Louis frowning at him with his lip stretched around his cock.

He wants to touch, wants trace Louis’ lips with his fingers, wants to cup his cheek, but he thinks that might be too much, too much too soon, and that’s something Nick’s trying to avoid. He places on hand on Louis shoulder, gripping him tight, and finally, _finally_ brings a hand up to Louis hair. Louis groans in response and Nick grips tighter, feeling the strands in his fingers.

Nick moans, and the noise feels loud in the room, but Louis is being loud too, broken moans and the wet sound of Louis’ mouth around his cock. He’s hyper aware of his body, of the pulling in his stomach, the way his arms are tensing, and fingers digging into Louis’ shoulder and his hair. His breath is coming fast, heart thudding in his chest as Nick can feel the orgasm build. His cock feels like it’s pulsing and his stomach clenches up, and he can feel the pressure building, and his whole body feels like it’s flushing with heat. He taps at Louis’ shoulder, tugging lightly at his hair in warning, but Louis only groans again, tightens his mouth around Nick, hollowing his lips and Nick has to close his eyes then as his orgasm feels like it bursts out of him, coming into Louis’ mouth as he feels Louis swallowing around him.

_Fuck._

His brain’s all fuzzy, and everything registers distantly — from the cubicle wall behind him, to Louis’ fingers on his hips — everything except Louis’ mouth around him. One moment it’s perfect, the next it’s too much, and he pushes at Louis’ shoulder, shoves him backwards until Louis releases his cock with a wet noise that sounds filthy.

_Fucking fuck._

He doesn’t stop touching, hands still carding lazily through Louis’ hair in a way he suspects may be a little too tender considering the circumstances, but he doesn’t stop, not until Louis shakes his head, and shrugs the hand off his shoulder.

Louis stands up, wiping his hands off on his jeans, and leans back against the opposite wall, pulling a face. He can see Louis’ erection, jeans stretched out over it.

He stills feel dizzy, and almost like he doesn’t fit in his skin, but he wants to touch Louis so much that it’s all consuming. It pushes him to move, his desire to reciprocate overwhelming. Nick tucks his softening cock away and then crowds in close to Louis, burying his face into Louis’ neck. He smells delicious, and Nick flicks his tongue out, tasting the salt on his skin. His hands come up to Louis’ sides, feeling the way Louis softly flinches at the touch, but he’s already moving with intent, running his hands down Louis sides. He traces curves until the feels hip bones under his thumbs, shoving his hands underneath Louis’ vest. His skin is soft and warm, but Nick doesn’t waste his time, hand coming up to flick open the button on his jeans, sliding the zipper down and shoving roughly, just far enough to get Louis’ dick out. He doesn’t waste any time, getting his hand around Louis and stroking, hot, hard and fast and Nick wishes suddenly, that this wasn’t here, that he had lube to smooth the way, or could take his time, but Louis doesn’t seem to be complaining, the opposite really if the breathy gasps at Nick’s ear are anything to judge by. Louis groans, the sound deep and filthy and then Nick feels Louis tense against him before he’s coming, hot over his fingertips and splashing against Nick’s stomach.

Louis is panting against his neck, breath almost wet against the skin, and Nick isn’t much better, it feels like his heart is trying to beat out of his chest. He lets himself lean into Louis, letting his body go loose and curling over Louis. He still doesn’t feel in control of it when Louis pushes him away, hands firm on his shoulders, and he watches as Louis tucks his dick away, and does up his pants.

Nick’s hand is still covered in Louis' come when he realises Louis is leaving, hand on the door, and he panics just a little, blurts out, “You could come back to mine after.”

Louis freezes, hand on the door. Nick can’t see his face but he can read Louis body language, the curve of his shoulders, and duck of his head.

“Thanks for the offer,” Louis says without moving, without even turning to look at him, and his voice sounds little, uncertain, but Nick can tell the rejection is coming before Louis adds, “But not tonight.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Nick with the sting of rejection, and come on his hand.

The ugly hat’s still on the ground, and Nick kicks it behind the toilet before he leaves.

_~-~_

**_And I want it, I want my life so bad_ **

**_And I'm doing everything I can_ **

 

Nick tries not to think about it. Tries not to wonder if _‘not tonight’_ actually means _not tonight_ or if it was just Louis’ way of trying to soften the blow. He tries not to think about whether the fact that he seems to turn away even a serial monogamist. What it means that Louis would blow him in the loos and then barely look his way all night. Louis hadn’t been there when Nick had finally re-joined Harry and his friends. Louis had finally returned only to drag Liam out onto the dance floor, staying there for the rest of the evening. Nick had decided to leave, too worn out from the night, from working and orgasms and the emotional whiplash Louis was causing him.

It was all too much.

“This song,” he says, when it comes time to sign off, and he doesn’t even try to cover it, not really “goes out to all the elastic hearts getting snapped out there. I’ll you all next week. Grim out.”

_~-~_

Saturday brings with it Louis’ first game, something he finds out about courtesy of a message from Harry.

_footie saturday, then SU?_

There’s also a man running, a soccer ball, and a finish line flag.

Nick highly suspects the message is part of Harry’s big plan to get Nick and Louis together. He’s not interested in football, even if he had a passably fun time at the trials.

There's also the fact that the last time he'd seen Louis, they'd got off in the bathroom like horny teenagers. Which Louis actually is, Nick reminds himself.

He knows he can get a little focused, he’s all in when he’s in, and Louis has brought that out in him. It’s a problem, the way he falls entirely, a whirlwind of emotions and yearning and by the time Nick has had a chance to take a breath the other person is usually packing their bags. _You see the beauty in the world and you can’t help but fall for it,_  Aimee had once told him. They’d both been drunk, world starting to blur and hanging off each other in the way that you do when you’ve had a few drinks and crave the comfort of another person, both lamenting their own relationship failures. Aimee had made it feel like something wonderful, but he can’t help but feel like if it ends up with him here, sad and pining over boy’s like this that he’s not entirely sure it’s worth it.

He does end up going to the game, even though all he really wants to do is sit in his room, sulk and pretend to do his reading while he scrolls through Instagram. There’s a voice in his head which sounds suspiciously like Pixie that says that would be sulking, and besides, Harry invited him out, it's just two mates hanging out and watching a game of footie.

He arrives just after kick off, sliding in beside Harry, who throws an arm around him and proceeds to deafen Nick when he yells at the game. Louis looks like a real footie player now, all dressed up in the team colours, long socks. He’s even got the shoes, and he has a number on his shirt, all the way proper. Harry sure thinks so anyway, supporting Louis as if he’s playing for England. He’s loud when he’s yelling at the team, louder whenever Louis gets close to the ball, and by the end of the game Nick’s more than a little relieved that Harry’s voice is starting to break.

Louis’ team wins the game 2-1, which Niall claims is at least forty percent thanks to Louis. Nick doesn’t believe him, but Niall is so enthusiastic, leaving no room for argument.

They run out onto the field for a hug, and Nick can see the sweat on Louis’ brow, can see the way his hair sticks to his neck and forehead, but it doesn’t stop the boys from rushing in for a hug, burying Louis underneath their arms and bodies.

Then Harry’s herding them off the SU. It’s early, doors only just opened, and Harry squeals in delight when they walk in, running over to the free pool table.

“Who wants to play?” he asks with a bright grin, stunning with his dimples on full display.

“You do not want to do that,” Niall tells him, stopping at the bar to order drinks. Liam’s already walking over to Harry, grabbing a pool cue with an easy grin as Harry lines up the balls. “Harry gets a bit competitive.”

There’s a loud _crack_ as Harry starts the games. Balls shoot across the table, Harry watching with a delighted grin on his face.

“Thanks for the warning, love,” Nick says, but he still accepts the offer when Harry asks him for a game, ignoring Niall’s groan from the corner.

He’s being thoroughly thrashed when Louis appears, leaning casually over Niall, and lifting the glass from his hands, ignoring Niall’s, “Oi!” and “I got you your own wanker!” as Louis finishes the drink.

Nick loses dramatically, but Harry’s a lot nicer about it than he was with Liam, Nick can see where he tries to hold back the smile for his sake. Which is kind of him, all things considered, but Nick can handle the loss. Niall still plays, regardless of his advice, and gives Harry a run for his money, but Harry plays with a determination, his face almost fierce, tongue between his lip when he gets really focused taking a shot. In the end he wins, though it’s a lot closer than Nick had been. When Harry completes his victory lap, clapping Niall’s back in something that could be commiseration but looks more like rubbing it in, he looks to Louis, holding the spare pool cue out with a raised eyebrow.

“How about it, Lou?”

“Not a chance,” Louis says, taking a sip of his drink. He looks lazy, sitting up on the stool and leaning against the wall with his drink in his hand, an easy grin on his face. He looks content, and reminds Nick of a sleepy cat, watching over the room with all the humans. “Had my win for the day, don’t need to beat you too.”

“As if you would,” Harry says with a grin, and he leans forward to ruffle at Louis’ hair, and Louis just closes his eyes leans into it, only reinforcing the resemblance to a cat.

“Dream on Styles.” Louis opens his eyes and bats Harry’s hand away weakly. Harry dodges easily with a laugh, and turns his attention to Liam.

“Need a smoke?” Louis asks, appearing in front of him and blocking the view of Harry and Liam, not that Nick minds. The words send a chill through him, the thought of previous smokes with Louis running through his mind, and he thinks Louis is thinking of them too, if the smile on his face is anything to go by, still lazy but just the hint of something more, and there’s nothing lazy about the way Louis stares down at him, standing in front of him, while Nick sits on the stool, just out of reach of Nick’s knees. It would take one step and Louis would be in the vee of his legs, and Nick thinks that would be something he’d like, pulling Louis into him, leaning up to kiss Louis instead of down.

Louis taps a hand on his knee, and Nick twitches without meaning to, his body reacting like Louis has given him a shock. It’s as if Nick’s own body is winding tighter as Louis’ relaxes, opposite and equal reactions — or something like that, Nick’s never been very good at the Science classes.

“Yes,” Nick answers, and there was never any other decision for him, and he thinks he was probably pretty obvious about it, but Louis’ face lights up all the same, and Nick loses himself in the smile for a moment. Then Louis is turning heading for the exit, and Nick follows after him.

It’s still bright out, but there’s a chill in the air, and Nick uses that as an excuse to slide close to Louis, bumping his shoulder together. He thinks about sliding an arm around him, but instead busies his hands with finding his pack and lighting a smoke, wordlessly offering the light to Louis for his own cigarette.

“Good game today,” Nick says after a bit, when the silence has dragged on a bit — although it’s not uncomfortable, it feels easy today, something in the way Louis feels relaxed beside him, and it makes Nick feel bold.

“Was alright,” Louis says, blowing out a stream of smoke, “need to work on my cardio, not that these are helping.” He shakes his cigarette with a laugh, but still brings it up to his lips nonetheless, drawing in around a smile.

“Still won though,” Nick points out, as he takes a final draw. “Reckon that deserves a reward.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, finishing his cigarette and grinding it out, and turning to face Nick, tilting his head up to look at Nick.

Nick doesn’t hesitate, turning into Louis and leaning down, closing the distance between them, and sealing his lips to Louis’. It never gets old, kissing Louis, it’s rapidly becoming his drug of choice. He slides his hands down Louis’ sides, thumbs rubbing circles through his shirt. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, not even when Louis’ parts his lips invitingly, instead choosing to break the kiss, peppering light kisses against Louis’ lips instead.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “winners get kisses.”

“That’s awful mate,” Louis says, with a huff of laughter, leaning forward and resting his cheek against Nick’s, but it sounds fond, and Nick grins wide, can feel Louis’ responding grin brushing against his cheek.

“Is it?” he asks, laugh only just contained. “Let me make it up to you?”

Louis places a kiss on his cheek, before mouthing his way back to Nick’s lips, before he captures Nick’s lips again.

It’s so good, and this time when Louis parts his lips Nick doesn’t hesitate to part his lips, slipping his tongue into Louis’ mouth, groaning into Louis’ mouth when Louis sucks on his tongue. Nick presses into Louis, turning and pressing him into the wall behind them. Louis seems to melt into it, and it feels so nice to press into him, tugs at something in Nick which makes him want to pick Louis up or press him down, or both maybe, if he can. Louis sucks at his lip too, before tracing over it with his tongue, and Nick groans again, feels the shock of it running through his body, straight to his cock.

He breaks the kiss only when his lungs are starting to pound in his chest, a friendly reminder that breathing is still something he struggles with, and he feels a little light headed from the kiss, from the lack of oxygen, and even from the way Louis is looking up at him, pupils blown, and the blues of his eyes thinner than Nick has ever seen before.

It’s intoxicating to see the same desire, to feel Louis’ growing hardness against his hip, and he just wants more.

“How do you feel about winner blow jobs?”

Louis huffs a laugh again, eyes crinkling shut in the way Nick’s watched so many times before, and he feels a stab of pride for putting it there.

Louis opens his mouth to respond, when there’s a piercing sound, a wolf whistle loud enough make them both flinch, and then someone yells, “Get a room, perverts!”

Louis face crumples, shutting down immediately, Nick opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Louis doesn’t let him, shoving Nick roughly, making him stumble awkwardly, off balance in every way possible, before Louis darts away. It takes Nick a moment to recover, before he dives for Louis’ arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist easily and tugging him back.

“Wait!” Nicks says, trying to pull Louis back, hoping to pull him back into him. If he can just get his arms around Louis he thinks he can make it better, wrap his arms around him and protect him from the yells of strangers, and whatever else he saw flash in Louis’ eyes. The fantasy only lasts for a moment, Louis yanks his arm roughly out of Nick’s hold, and then he’s gone, taking with him all the air from Nick’s lungs.

Nick slumps back against the wall, his heart thumping loudly in his chest, and tears pricking at his eyes. His own brain is telling him to run, but the people responsible for the words are long gone, having had their cheap laugh and made off, taking the comfort and happiness with them.

He blows out his breath, his lungs feel tight painfully so, but he still takes another cigarette from his pack, trying and failing to ignore the way his fingers shake, and he smokes it down to the filter before he trusts himself to move, sending Harry a message to say he’d had to leave, and making his way back to his room, jumping at shadows as he goes.

_~-~_

**_Look inside your tiny mind_ **

**_Now look a bit harder_ **

He runs it passed Ainslie first, gets permission for the song because he wants to play it, and he thinks it’s worthwhile. All he has to do is read out the warning beforehand.

“We have a language warning coming up folks. This song is called _Fuck You_ by Lily Allen.”

That’s all he gives, can’t bring himself to give a justification today, and he feels his eyes prick at the lyrics. It is therapeutic though, and he feels better.

Nick’s not sure if he’s expecting a message, he hadn’t got one for a few weeks anyway, but when he sees the notification he clicks it up, and recognises the number immediately.

‘ _good choice’_ is all it reads, but it’s enough to get Nick feeling a little better. There are people out there, he remembers, people who do care.

_~-~_

The knock on his door comes as a surprise, but finding Louis there when he opens the door is probably even more of a surprise.

His heart jumps in his chest, and he’s a little overwhelmed by the rush of feelings at seeing Louis there, looking lost, all swallowed up in a jumper that looks three sizes too big for him.

“Brought you coffee,” Louis says, instead of saying any of the things Nick might have been expecting, like _hello_ or explaining what he’s doing here, or how he even knows where Nick lives. Or what he’s doing here _now_ when last time Nick had mentioned coming back to his Louis had practically _bolted_ on him, and of course this isn’t like that time, but he can’t help but think of that time anyway

Not that Nick asks any of that. Just takes the offered coffee, wondering if this is Louis’ peace offering, and trying not to wonder what Louis is doing at his door with coffee after tea time.

“Can I come in, then?”

“Right,” Nick says, the words jump starting him into action, and he steps aside to allow Louis access. “Come in, then.”

Louis takes a look around the room, taking the small space in, and Nick refuses to be embarrassed of his room, not of his pants he can see poking out the top of his laundry basket, or his unmade bed. He does move to close his laptop at least, closing the music video he’d had playing before Louis’ knock had interrupted him — not that he’s ashamed, but he really doesn't want Louis looking through his YouTube history either.

“What are you doing here?” Nick asks, when the silence has gone on too long. There’s something about the two of them, which always seems to lead them to here. Nick’s hard to shut up usually, and Louis is always loud when people are around, but when it’s just the two of them Nick’s voice seems to abandon him, and Louis goes quiet, like leaving them quiet and Nick feeling even more awkward than he usually feels.

Louis leans against his desk, instead of taking the chair like a usual person, and Nick does the complicated maths of whether the chair is too close, whether he can move it without it being weird, before he decides to sit down on his bed instead, shoving aside his bag to make room. Louis isn’t looking at him, eyes locked on the cup in his hands. When he does finally answer it takes Nick a moment to remember that he asked a question. “Thought we should have a chat. Harry told me where to find you.”

Harry sent him here, which, for one is weird, given that he’s not sure how Harry knew where he lived, and two, the last time Harry had talked about Louis to Nick he’d been trying to play matchmaker, and that didn’t turn out well either.

“This tea’s shit, mate,” Louis says with a grimace. He stares at the cup as if it’s personally offended him, and Nick supposes it kind of has. He looks uncomfortable, stiff, like he’s trying for casual, but there’s a tension to Louis’ body that shows it for the lie it is. He’s also _still,_ which is so unlike Louis it almost stands out like a blaring siren to Nick. He has his jumper sleeves pulled over his hands, and Nick wonders if it's actually his, maybe a hand me down, or if he nicked it from someone; it seems ridiculously large for him. His shoulders are turned in as if he’s trying to make himself smaller, and he’s already so small, he seems swamped by Nick’s room, and it’s so at odds with his usual larger than life presence. Nick’s only seen flashes of this before, before Louis tucked them away under a carefully schooled expression. It makes him feel sad, but also a little warmed, that Louis _is_ showing him this now, is showing Nick _Louis_ without any of the usual faces he puts on. Just Louis.

“No hot chocolate today?”

“Nah. This is a tea sort of discussion.” He stares down at the cup again. His fringe — usually carefully swept to the side — is hanging down over his eyes, and Nick wants to reach out and push it back in place, like if he puts his one part of Louis back together then Louis will be back to his normal self.

“I’ll make you one,” Nick offers, the words coming out of his mouth before he can think better of them. Louis looks surprised, which is fair, Nick’s a little surprised himself. But he wants Louis to stay, wants Louis to not look so damn _sad_ and it’s the only thing he can think of just now.

“Yeah alright.” He plays with the lid on his cup. “Milk no sugar, ta.”

“Right.” Nick gets up, moving to his cupboard where he keeps his mugs. He has a to go cup and a mug his mum bought him before he left home. He grabs that on an impulse, like if he gives Louis in that mug he’ll have to stay. _Sorry you can’t leave,_  Nick will tell him, _you’ll have to finish your tea here_. He keeps that thought inside as he says instead, “Just, stay here right? I’ll be back in a mo’.”

Nick races to the kitchenette, making the tea as fast as he reasonably can. He steals Aimee’s milk for it, and he knows that she’ll know somehow, even if it’s only milk for one cup of tea. She always knows.

He’s half expecting Louis to have cleared out while he was gone, so when Louis is still sitting exactly where he left him something seizes in Nick’s throat.

Louis discards the cup he’s holding, and takes Nick’s offered mug. Their fingers brush as Nick hands it over, and he almost twitches away. He needs to chill. It’s not normal to be this jumpy even if there’s a fit bloke in his bedroom. He’s just a friend of a friend who Nick just happens to have shared a snog and an orgasm with. Nothing that special.

“Thanks.” Louis brings the cup up to his mouth to drink, and maybe it’s the warm steam on his face, or maybe tea does actually help but he does look better for having some to drink. He places the cup down, hands disappearing into the vast depths of his jumper again.

“I need to tell you some stuff and I need you to listen. Because I don’t want to say it, so you need to hear it. Don’t go interrupting me with your big radio DJ voice, okay?”

Louis looks at him, waiting, and Nick gives him a nod. Considers and abandons giving Louis a thumbs up because that is a _terrible_ idea.

Louis nods back, turning his attention back to his hands, fingers picking at the sweater. Nick feels like he’s hanging on the edge of his seat waiting — or bed really, and he wishes Louis would just hurry the fuck up and tell him, his stomach twisting in anticipation of what Louis has to say. He doesn’t like men, he doesn’t like men with quiffs, or maybe he just didn’t like _Nick_ . Maybe this is the _it’s not you it’s me_ talk, and Nick’s heard the talk before but it never makes it any easier. Still a slap in the face and the sting of rejection. He has the urge to tell Louis to just spit it out. He would do it if he thought that would be of any help, but he thinks that would be more likely to backfire with Louis. He takes a sip of his coffee, and tries to ignore the twisting in his stomach that has nothing to do with the drink.

“Christ, I wish I could have a smoke,” Louis says with a huff. “Wish Harry was here. He’d tell this better.”

Nick’s not sure that’s true. He loves Harry but getting a story out of him is an adventure in patience and an adventure in itself. Half the time he’s not sure he actually gets the right story, or even a complete story of any sort. But there’d probably be more giggling.

“You grew up in a small town, yeah? Like, small school and all that?”

“Smallish,” Nick agrees.

“So you know what it’s like yeah? Small town, small school, everyone knows your face and you know someone will tell your mum when they see you skiving off school to go and smoke.” Louis gives a weak laugh, and yeah Nick knows that feeling, knows his parents probably knew more about what he got up to than they ever admitted to, but they were good enough to let Nick think he was getting away with it. “So, some things are great yeah? Haz and I have been mates since forever, and no one cared if we wanted to walk over to each other’s houses and stuff. But there’s also like, some shit, yeah? Small towns and people talk. Harry and I were always close, and some people thought it was _too close_ you know? And like we used to get shit for it. Harry never cared, but I used to get up in people’s faces.”

Louis sighs deeply.

“Then I had a thing with a boy. And I know it’s not but it kind of felt like the end of the world, or it felt like everyone who’d ever said something was right, maybe they’d seen something in me that I didn’t even realise. Like I’d had it tattooed across my forehead the whole time and everyone knew but me. I was a bit of a shit boyfriend, I’ll be honest. Then we broke up and I thought that was that, you know. Harry knew, and my sister Fizzy, but only because she walked in on us having a snog, but I kinda felt like — and I know it sounds stupid — but like I’d got away with it. No one had to know and I could go back to dating girls and it would be like nothing changed.”

His voice is rushing now, words tumbling out like if he stops Nick might interrupt but he wouldn’t.

“Then Monday, people were being funny and staring and stuff.” Louis sighs again. “Turned out, Dan had a photo of us, just like, together yeah, but it was enough. It got real shit for a bit. Harry got dragged into it, and I got kicked off the footie team.” Nick’s sharp inhale draws Louis’ eyes, and he shakes his head just a little bit. “Not for like, that, some of the boys were saying shit and I just… kinda, had enough you know, and so we got in a bit of a fight and that’s why. Got suspended too. Mum was proper mad about that.”

“It was pretty shit for a while,” Louis admits. “And then like, I just wanted to put it behind me for a bit, and take a break from like all of it and relationships.” Louis gives a weak laugh. “And then you came along.”

Nick feels his stomach drop a bit.

“You’re out, and you make it look so easy but I’m not – it’s not –“ Louis trails off, looking lost, and there’s so much here, so much Nick wants to wrap him up in his arms, wants to protect him from the people who made this something Louis feels afraid of. It’s not all flowers and sunshine, he knows that. He knows people who’ve lost people, who’ve been kicked out of home. Too many people and too much pain, and all the scars they wear even if you can’t see them on the outside.

He can’t help them all, but he can help the lost boy in front of him, and he closes the distance between them, wrapping Louis up in his arms. Louis fits easily, tucking his bony chin into Nick’s collarbone, when Nick tugs him in, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. Louis arms wrap around his hips, coming to rest at his lower back. It’s a good hug and Nick doesn’t want to let go of him, so he doesn’t, holding on tight.

“I wasn’t out in school,” he says, directly into Louis’ ear, and Louis tenses a little, but doesn’t make any move to get out, so Nick continues, speaking. “I didn’t come out till I came to Uni. Didn’t even tell my mum and dad. Told them after, although they’d had an inkling. The posters were a dead giveaway I think, I had just as many posters of fit blokes as my sister.” Louis huffs a laugh against his collarbone, just the reaction he’s going for.

“It’s shit what you went through. I wish you hadn’t. I’m won’t lie and say it’s all rainbows, but it’s not like that.” Nick takes a deep breath, rubs little circles into Louis’ shoulder which he hopes are soothing. “But you don’t have to be out. If you’re not ready then you’re not ready, there’s no shame in that.”

“It’s stupid,” Louis mumbles into his skin. “The lads already know.”

Nick shrugs, “It’s not the same though yeah? The lads knowing and everyone knowing. It’s not like I go yelling it from the rooftops.” Louis laughs a little, and it’s weak but it’s something, it feels like it’s a step in the right direction. Nick keeps rubbing a circle into Louis shoulder. “I’m not looking for you to do that either,” Nick adds, “Screaming it from the rooftops, that is. I asked you to come back to mine, and I won’t lie, I’d like a bit more than a cheeky snog and fumble in the loos, but I don’t need you to tell the world.”

“And you’d be okay with that?” Louis asks, his voice sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. I mean, for a while. I’d always want to tell people,” Nick doesn’t say _if it gets that far_ , but he can feel the words hanging in the air, wonders if Louis can too.

“We can just like, see how it goes, yeah? If that’s what you want.” Nick wants, but he doesn’t want to curse this, doesn’t want to move too fast – even if it might be a little late for that.

Louis bites his lip, “Yeah. It Is. What I want.”

“Alright then.” Nick says, and he tries to sound upbeat. “If that’s sorted, I wouldn’t mind a cuddle and some telly. How about it?” He feels exhausted really, too many emotions and he started this day feeling frustrated, and he feels like he just ran an emotional marathon – that’s probably a thing right? – and he just wants to rest and relax but most importantly he wants to do it _with_ Louis.

Louis nods, and Nick moves them to the bed, makes a bit of a pillow fort to lie in while Louis watches with entertainment. He sets up his laptop to play old episodes of Bake Off to play, leaning against the wall. Louis tucks up into his side and Nick wraps an arm around him, listening to the familiar voices as he lets the exhaustion take him under.

_~-~_

Nick wakes with Louis tucked into his chest, and needing a wee so badly it’s painful.

That’s what he gets for falling asleep after drinking a coffee, probably. He still puts moving off a little while longer, waiting until his bladder feels about to burst, before he shifts Louis gently, unwrapping the arm that had looped around his stomach (which wasn’t helping either), gently resettling Louis on a pillow, before he sprints to the bathroom.

Louis is awake when he gets back, if only just, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and looking up at him. Nick wants to kiss him, wants to push him back onto the bed and cover Louis’ body with his own, and he considers it, if only for a moment, before busying himself round his room, closing his laptop, throwing his empty cup in the rubbish, and shoving the books back on his desk where they belong.

Louis finally interrupts him, halfway through rearranging his pens so they all line up (which is a perfectly normal thing to do, thank you) to say, “I should go.” Nick abandons the pens to watch Louis as he shuffles across the bed to the edge, swinging his legs over the side.

“If you like,” Nick says, aiming for casual even as it feels like the blood is rushing in his veins. “Could stay, though.”

“Yeah?” Louis tugs at his jumper, playing with the hem, and Nick wants him to take it off. He doesn’t, but he does sit back a little,

“Yeah. Not sure you should be out so late. Shifty neighbourhood this, wouldn’t want anything to happen.”

“You’d know about those sorts then, yeah?” Louis says with a smile, and Nick cracks one too, fully abandoning the pens, and any idea of organising the room, as he moves into Louis’ space, stepping between Louis’ knees.

“I would, yeah. One night a kid stole my lighter.”

Louis laughs then, open and loud, eyes crinkling, and Nick thinks losing a lighter is worth it for that, would probably lose a hundred lighters to keep Louis smiling like that.

“That right?”

“Yup. So I guess you’ll just have so stay, wouldn’t want it to happen to you.”

“Suppose so.”

Louis looks up at him, blue eyes through long eyelashes. Nick wants to kiss him, wants to cover the barely hidden smile on his lips with his own, and when Louis bites down on his bottom lip Nick decides he may as well do just that.

It’s awkward, folding himself down to cover Louis’ lips. But the way Louis is leaning up for him makes it feel worth it, and Nick keeps the kisses light, just brushed his lips against Louis’ own. He brings his hands to Louis shoulders, feels the lines of his collarbone even through the thick oversized jumper. He breaks away, feels Louis’ breath against his moist lips as he runs his hands over Louis’ shoulder.

He shoves Louis back roughly, watching as he squawks, arms flailing a little as he falls back against the bed.

Nick’s own laughter bubbles up, even as Louis glares up at him, looking like he might murder Nick in his own bed if he gets the chance. The threat’s not enough to stop him, cost benefit ratio and all that, and Nick throws a leg over Louis to sit on his thighs. He yelps at the first pinch when it comes, Louis catching the skin at his thighs, fingers quick and painful. The second one comes just off to the side of his nipple, dangerously close really, so Nick captures Louis' wrists in his own, pulling them above Louis’ head as he drops his own body down to capture Louis' lips.

It’s so much better than any of their other kisses, which Nick wouldn’t have thought possible, but Louis proves him wrong. Louis doesn’t fight his hold, or struggle under him as Nick does his best to snog him senseless. It’s somehow both lazy and hungry, Nick _wants_ and he doesn’t waste his time, licking his way into Louis’ mouth, tasting a hint of the tea, but mostly just _Louis_. It’s delightful, and Nick traces patterns with his thumbs as he kisses Louis. He’s thrusting lazily with his hips too, small movements that come instinctively without any real desire to get off, although he can feel the way he’s starting to get hard from this, from having Louis beneath him, and all the possibilities that entails.

They’re in a bed this time, and it’s been a while since he’s had a proper shag, and the thought that he might be getting one now has his heart racing faster, breath too. He has to break the kiss to pull away, gasping for air, satisfied that Louis seems equally out of breath when he looks up at him, eyes a little dazed.

Louis doesn’t move when Nick releases his wrists, and well, that’s interesting, and something he tucks away in his mind, to be examined later – if there’s a later – which he really hopes there is. He runs his hands down Louis arms, wishing he was naked which – yes, he should do that. Now that he has a goal Nick moves with intention, getting his fingers underneath Louis’ jumper, feeling the hint of warm skin there. He raises an eyebrow at Louis in question, moving as soon as Louis gives him a nod. It’s a race then, shoving Louis’ jumper off. It goes easily, the size of it helpful now. The shirt goes next, then Nick is sliding down the bed, tugging at the joggers until Louis is lying in his bed, naked expect for his pants.

Louis so fit he needs to take a moment just to take it all in. He’s flushed, the blush starting on his cheeks and reaching down to his chest. Even his ears are red, something Nick probably shouldn’t find as appealing as he does. He’s biting his lip again, and Nick wants to stop him, wants to tug on the lip with his own teeth.

“Are you just going to stand there, Nicholas?” Louis asks, voice trying to sound harsh, but Nick can hear the vulnerability beneath it.

He feels self-conscious getting his kit off in front of Louis. He’s not as fit as Louis, nothing special, and he considers for a moment if he should warn him, or apologise. Louis’ friends with _Harry_ for Christ’s sake, let alone Liam and Niall. But Louis’s eyes are watching him, and for all Nick feels worried about what he’ll see all he can see is _want_ and when Louis bites his lip again and the want outweighs all else.

He strips his own clothes quickly, carefully not looking so he doesn’t have to watch Loui’s reaction. He’s standing in just his pants when there’s a touch to his arm, fingers wrapping tight around his wrist like Nick had been doing before.

“Fuck,” Louis says, voice hoarse, and his eyes raking over Nick. He feels naked, even with his pants on. Louis’ other hand reaches out, but stops short of touching, tracing the air over Nick’s stomach. “I want to touch, Nick – please – can I touch you?”

“Yes,” Nick gasps out. He feels like he might combust if Louis _doesn’t_ touch him.

Louis does touch him then, fingers closing the distance between them. His fingers brush against his sternum, tracing through his hair, fingers playing almost lazily as Louis traces the path it makes. It’s teasing, because of course Louis is teasing now, Nick almost wishes he could have them back in the dirty bathroom, except that he doesn’t, not at all.

When Louis fingers finally skate over the front of Nick’s pants he can’t take it anymore, growls a _Louis_ before pushing him back to the bed, pushing Louis’ legs wide to fit between them, and capturing his mouth again in a searing kiss. This feels more intimate than anything they’ve done before, more intimate than when Louis had Nick’s cock in his mouth. Louis body is a hot line against his, cock pressing into his stomach, Nick thrusts forward, bumping his cock into Louis' arse.

_Fuck._

“Fuck me," Louis groans, deep and filthy and warm against his ear, and Nick _wants._

“I could,“ Nick gasps out, breaking off when Louis thrusts up again. “If that’s a request.”

“Yes.” Louis' hands grip tighter, his knees squeezing Nick’s sides, before releasing. “I want – it is, yes, I want that.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, because of course he will, of course he wants that too.

Getting their pants off would be easier if Louis would let him move away, or maybe it’s Nick who doesn’t want to move away, who _can’t_ move away. Needs to stay close, to keep as much of their skin touching, He has to shove Louis’ legs up to get his pants off, and shimmies his own off, kicking them the rest of the way, with as much care as he’d given Louis’ own. He reaches for the lube, pressing their bodies together, Nick groans but Louis is louder, drowning even his own sounds out.

He squirts the lube onto his fingers, before dropping the bottle next to Louis’ leg, shifting his legs up for better access. He traces a lazy pattern with his fingers.

Louis ducks his head when Nick looks up, searching for eye contact, and Nick stills his fingers.

It takes a moment before Louis does look back to him, he looks nervous, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

There’s something about it which makes Nick ask, “Louis, have you done this before?”

“No.” Louis voice is quiet smaller than he’s heard it before, and it tugs at Nick.

“We don’t have to,” Nick says, because he wants Louis, but he wants to make sure he knows that more. “We can do other things.”

“Shut up,” Louis bites out, eyes jerking back to watch Nick, and he’s flushed, looks nervous, but there’s no hesitation there. “I want it. Just do it, Nicholas.”

He does, slipping a finger inside Louis as he maintain eye contact, turning his head to drop a kiss to his knee. It’s not something he cares about, usually at least, but there’s a small part of him that likes that, that makes him want to make it good for Louis.

Nick wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Louis flushes deeper, gasping out as Nick pushes deeper. It’s gorgeous to watch, as Nick works at opening him up watching the way Louis gasps, eyes falling shut for just a moment on a particularly good thrust, before flashing open again. Louis fingers grip the sheets, and they twist, looking almost like they could rip the sheets when Nick slips another finger in beside the first.

Louis bites his lip again, groaning and arching up, and he’s so responsive Nick feels heady with it. He wants to see how responsive Louis would be for other things, so he drops his head to lick a stripe up Louis’ cock. Louis is just as responsive as he expected, moaning and arching his back again, and he tenses around Nick’s fingers. He mouths at Louis’ cock as he slips a third finger in, and he sees the twitch in his stomach, but Louis moans again, breaking eye contact as he pushed his head back into the pillow, and Louis takes the third just as well as the rest, and Nick can’t look away from his face, from the line of his throat as he arches up into it, and Nick wants to lick there too, promises himself there’ll be time for that later.

His hand is starting to cramp up when he pulls his fingers out, wiping his hands on the sheet. He grabs a pillow from their abandoned nest, sliding it underneath Louis’ arse before reaching for a condom. He feels like he’s doing this for the first time again, fingers fumbling as he tries to rip the foil open, and he almost drops the condom onto Louis when he finally gets it open. Finally he gets it on, adding a little more lube for good measure, and Louis is gasping out _come on_ by the time Nick finally pushes inside.

“Fuck Louis,” he can’t help but bite out, though he manages to bite down on the _Christ your arse_ that he thinks might just be a little too much.

Louis digs his knee into Nick’s side, and it figures that Louis would be demanding with this. In the future Nick thinks he’d like to make him wait, make him so desperate for it he’s begging for it and the thought drives him forward. Next time, Nick will make him wait, but this time he doesn’t think he could slow down even if he tried, can’t do anything but thrust into Louis as the sound of their breathing, of their bodies, and the mumbling sounds Louis makes which sound a lot like _please,_ _Nick_ and _yes._ It takes his everything to get a hand between them, wrapping tight around Louis’ cock, but it’s worth it for the high-pitched sound he makes. There’s no finesse to it, his hand still lube slick, stroking Louis as fast as he can and he sees it on Louis’ face the same time as he feels Louis tense around him, coming hot and messy over Nick’s fingers and their stomachs. Nick’s own orgasm follows shortly afterwards, and he pushes deep into Louis and presses his body down on top of Louis, mindless of the mess between them, wrapping his come covered hand around Louis where’s he’s finally released the death grip on the sheets.

It’s too hot, too wet from sweat and sticky from the lube and come, but Nick doesn’t care, stays exactly where he is until Louis starts to squirm below him. He’s careful as he pulls out, Louis still gasps when he does, and Nick kisses the noise from his lips, as if that will help to sooth his other aches. He needs to move, should clean them up before things get gross – or grosser, but he doesn’t want to stop kissing Louis, so instead he lazily kisses Louis, moving from his lips to the corner of his mouth, then all the way down to the nape of his neck, licking a line up to his ear, tasting the sweat on Louis’ skin.

That gets Louis moving, and he pushes Nick’s head away – with the come-covered hand Nick, realises too late to do anything about it.

“Gross, Nicholas.”

“You’re ruining the moment, darling.”

Louis laugh is quickly becoming his favourite sound, and he places a kiss on Louis' face before he does get up then, ducking into the bathroom. He splashes some water on his face, runs his wet hands through his fingers, before dampening the cloth and returning to Louis, wiping him down as best he can before he throws the cloth in the direction of the laundry hamper, and slips into bed beside him.

“How was that then?” When Nick’s tucked himself into Louis' side, half on top of Louis where he’s buried face down into the pillow. His breath ruffles the hair at Louis’ neck, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind, so Nick’s not inclined to move, not when he’s got an arm wrapped around him, and he can nuzzle into Louis’ neck as he wants.

“’s alright,” Louis says, voice thick with sleep. “Think you might need some practice though.”

Nick digs his fingers into Louis’ ribs, but it barely gets a reaction from him. “Oh and I suppose you’d be willing to help me out with that.”

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles, “I’m real nice like that.”

“I’d like that,” he says, and if his voice sounds too fond, even for his own ears, Nick hopes that fit boys who are sleepy and sex-drunk will ignore it.

_~-~_

**_I've been a romantic for so long_ **

**_All I've ever had are love songs_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who made this possible in some way.
> 
> to the people who dragged me in: you know what you did.  
> Thank you to the people who listened to me whine and cry and who heard me say "I can't do this" and who watched me say "I'm gonna do this"
> 
> Thank you to my bestie who talked about british music with me for hours, listened to me wax poetic about both Nick and Louis' hair, and let me sit in her lounge room and write this even when I went round hers for her birthday celebrations. What a trooper. She'll never read this, but it wouldn't be possible without her.
> 
> This started out as a "hahahaha great idea" and evolved into the most serious, plotty monster I have ever tackled. Why you do this to me?
> 
> And thank you for reading!


End file.
